Ripe and Ruin
by manhattan martini
Summary: Trainers are supposed to have ambition. Geneva doesn't. — Or: how skill constantly overcomes passion, in the most bitter of ways.
1. Decisions

Don't let me drown, don't breathe alone  
No kicks, no pangs, no broken bones  
Never let me sink, always feel at home  
No sticks, no shanks, and no stones.

Never leave it too late; always enjoy the taste  
Of the great grey world of hearts.  
All dogs everywhere bark:  
"It's worth knowing:  
Like all good fruit, the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin."

 **Alt-J** , "Interlude I"

* * *

The day some lousy kid was crowned the new champion was the day I decided to buckle up and, like, _really_ — Excuse you, asshole? I'll get to her eventually. If you wanted to know about her without knowing about _me_ , you'd have asked someone else.

So, from the top? Two years before that kiddy champion fiasco, I'd saved up some money, and I was starting off my journey. Lavender's not exactly the best town to make a fortune, and it's not like my family was ever well-off. We managed, and I never went hungry, but, come on. Look at me. Are you looking? It would be a fucking waste, right? I'd rather have died than to have been stuck at a job cleaning graves or whatever shit's available for people my age – or, you know, the age I was then. Huh? Yeah, it's a shitty-ass job, but it exists. I mean, dude, cleaning _graves_. Would you do it? … Yeah, didn't think so either.

Anyway – so, two years before this jackass kid gets crowned champion, I pack up and head out to Saffron. Towns with gyms give out licenses way faster than towns with nationally-known graveyards, so I made my way there. What? No, I – do I look like one of those sentimental types to you? Fuck no, I wasn't going to linger around waiting for anything. As soon as I knew I could make the trip, I bolted. My dad had been dead for a year, then, and my mother was starting to grow tired of having to take care of me. No, I'm not lying. Not everyone has the benefit of having a job like you do. What do your parents do? Something respectable and well-paid, I bet. Have any siblings? See, there you go. _I'm_ an only child, and it's not just 'cause my parents didn't want any more kids. Mouths to feed and all that crap. You wouldn't know.

She worked at the pokécenter as a cleaning maid – you can check with them if you don't believe me – and she had to pick up another job at the Tower after my dad died. I'm not sure what she did there, exactly, but I'm pretty sure she was assigned to the burial pyres, 'cause I'll never forget the stench of her clothes when she got home at night. Fucking gross, eugh. Like burnt hair and clotted— holy shit, how long have you been _working_ here? I'd have figured a – okay, okay, I'll get to the point. Just don't puke on me; you couldn't afford these shoes.

So I told her I was leaving, she made me promise to call knowing full well I wouldn't, and I was off to Saffron. Back then the train lines had been but a tiny what-if in the upcoming Kanto-Johto pet projects, so I had to walk all the way there like the commoner I was. Try and catch me walking anywhere, today. Fuck _that_ , let me tell you.

I'd been to Saffron before. My dad's construction company was often hired instead of the local ones because Lavender workmanship is finer than any—pff, nah, I'm just fucking with you. Lavender manpower was just a lot cheaper, and the trip between the cities was comfortable enough to cover the costs. If you ask me, I'd have told my old man to refuse. Take no shit, just what you deserve. But what could I do? There was hardly any work for the adults, much less for a ten-year-old, and I didn't really care about my parents' professional lives anyway. The me today _,_ though? I would have told those greedy fuckers to suck it, and I'd have rather – huh? Yeah, fine. But the point still stands. I earned everything I own, and you know what? It was _easy_.

Saffron isn't half the jungle people say it is. Sure, it's big, and full of dark corners – but I'd been raised in a backwater little group of alleys, and I'm more than used to taking shortcuts. Besides, I'd gone there with my dad, so I wasn't the cliché image of a country bumpkin who, well, you know – those guys who walk in all awed, you know, guys from places like Pallet or some shit, who stare at the skyscrapers like they've never seen anything so magnificent in their pathetic lives? That wasn't me. That was never going to be me.

I got to work as fast as I could. I headed straight for the pokécenter, asked for a license, took the exam, and two days later I was a certified Trainer. Capital letter and all that. I did some odd jobs while I waited, saved up on some more money – I was flat broke by the time I paid the license fee – and then I went and challenged Sabrina.

Yeah, really. You can laugh, man. No, go ahead; laugh all you want. Because I didn't fucking lose. Yeah, I'm serious. I didn't _win,_ either, but I didn't lose – I never got around to entering the gym, actually. Ha, yeah, I know my phrasing was super misleading, but hey, at least I know how to keep an audience. Don't tell me you weren't just hoping I'd—

Why? Why what? Why didn't I challenge – oh, right.

So, there I was, two steps away from pushing those glass doors apart, and that, right then, was when I met Mush.

* * *

 **Chapter I:  
Decisions, or I Wanna Eat The Whole Cake**

* * *

She was going to miss him. In a way, she already did – even if Pierce was only going to leave tomorrow. Geneva knew him, though, better than she did herself, and the only reason as to why Pierce hadn't set out this very day was because the sun had already begun to set. She wouldn't be able to see him off otherwise.

She pushed back from the stone slab, wiping her sweaty forehead on her sleeve, and pulled the gloves off of her hands. The rubber snapped against her fingers, but she barely noticed. She pressed them into the pocket of her apron, folded in half, and rose to her feet, pushing her hair behind her ears. Mother had been insisting she cut it, but Dad had loved it long, and Geneva couldn't bring herself to, even as the summer neared and her hair blanketed across her back.

Arthur was waving at her from the gates. Only now did Geneva hear the bell tolling; she gave a tired wave back and began unknotting her apron. After it folded across her arm, she knelt again, gathering the cleaning supplies from the grass in a practiced motion. It had been difficult, at first – the detergent bottles were heavy, and the metal brushes even more so, but she'd grown used to it. The bucket fit against the curve of her hip, and she walked off to meet Arthur.

"Good work today?" he greeted, waving at some other workers.

Geneva offered a nod, walking past to set the bucket on the supply shed. It was a small house, but Arthur kept it as clean as the rest of the grounds, and Geneva hadn't been nervous about the enclosed space since her first time walking inside. She placed the supply bucket on the space assigned to her work post – tagged with the number four –, set the apron on the hanger, and made her way outside once more. It would be dark soon, despite the warm weather – the mountains surrounding Lavender always made sure the light would disappear before the sun did.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Arthur said, the lines on his face deepening as he smiled. Geneva nodded once more, trying to muster a smile in return, and made her way down the plain.

The path, beaten by multitudes of visitors and workers, unfurled into the entrance of the town. It was surrounded with drying grass and wildflowers that would vanish once the summer set in, sprawling down the valley alongside the wheat fields. Geneva took it every day on her way to the graveyard, so the novelty had faded, but she was fonder of the trail than she was of the intricate mosaics of the Lavender pavements.

Tourists loved those – the painstakingly assembled sidewalks where the pokémon of Lavender looked up to the skies – but Geneva didn't. Gastly and haunter were a common sight in the town, be it lingering above a channeler's shoulder or hovering across the Tower's roof; as a local, she had long since grown used to their presences, and the folks of Lavender were not superstitious in nature, despite what the rest of Kanto thought. Religious, yes, just not irrationally so.

As a child, however, the depictions of those ghosts had been terrifying. Gastly and haunter were snickering pranksters, mostly, but the pavements painted eerie auras and wide, unseeing eyes, and she just couldn't –

"Oh, look," someone called out. Geneva nearly startled, but then realized she had already reached the town's plaza, and there was no cause for alarm. "It's the dead girl!"

"That's not funny," she murmured, turning to look at Pierce.

The excitement in him was nearly palpable. It had been a long, long time since she'd last seen him smile so wide, and her heart fluttered despite the rest of her body wilting. Was he really so glad to leave?

"Sure is," he replied, walking past her. Geneva hurried to follow, falling in step beside him. "Looking as dead as ever. What's eating you up this time?"

"I was thinking about the mosaics again." She had to strain her voice above the dwindling market's retailers, desperately trying to get rid of any remaining produce before the stalls closed. "Because I thought about the dirt path leading to—"

"Yaaawn," Pierce interrupted loudly, rolling his eyes. "Get over that while you still can, Geneva. Like, damn, you're fourteen already. Quit being such a baby."

She pressed her lips together, staring at the tips of her shoes as she walked. They were scuffed, and lightly dusted with brown dirt – she'd have to clean them before Mother got home, or risk getting another speech about responsibilities.

"In other, _far_ more interesting, news," Pierce went on, intertwining his fingers behind his neck, "I got a ninety on the last mock-up test I did. I'll bet you five grand I'll ace this stupid exam."

"I believe you," Geneva said, smiling slightly. She'd heard from his mother that Pierce had been a constant presence at the pokécenter for the last few weeks, practically driving the working nurses into a breakdown with how many mock-up tests he asked them to come up with. It was just like him to be so driven. She wished she could be like that, sometimes.

"Predictable," he scoffed, "but I'll take it. Don't need your money anyway – actually, how's that grave cleaning shtick going? Nice fingernails."

She felt her ears go hot, and closed her hands. Despite the gloves, she'd always had the bad habit of biting her nails, and the constant friction of brushing assured they broke frequently.

"It's going," she muttered, looking at the floor again. Behind them, the market's sounds faded into nothing. They crossed the street, nearing the shortcut into the lower district.

"Yeah? How long 'till you get the hell out of this hellhole?" he asked, ignoring the shocked glance from one of their neighbors. He really was in a good mood – ordinarily, he'd cock his head and ask, _what is it now, you old bat?_

"He doesn't mean that, Mrs. Florence," Geneva murmured, hoping she'd sound apologetic enough. Mrs. Florence gave them both a derisive look, arms heavy with groceries, and hurried her pace, cutting into the closest street.

"Actually, I really, really do," Pierce called out, after the old woman. He turned to glare at Geneva. "What's it _matter_? It's not like I'll ever have to look at her bitter old face ever again. As soon as the sun rises, I'm getting the fuck out of here. And if you knew what's best for you, you'd hurry up and get on with it."

"You're not going to visit?" Geneva asked, looking at him.

Pierce's blue eyes – like glacial seas – rolled all the way around, until they settled on hers again. Geneva nearly shrunk into herself again, but something inside her latched onto the attention, and refused to let go. First, he'd stopped calling her by her childhood nickname, and then he'd started saying he was leaving, and now he wasn't – he wasn't even going to come back?

"Fuck no, I'm not going to visit. Why would I?"

 _Because of me,_ Geneva thought, but knew better than to say.

Pierce had always been ambitious. He'd always wanted to be a trainer, even before his father had died. But without him around, Pierce's drive had augmented twofold; talks about traveling became plans, and the money he made from odd jobs was no longer wasted in ice creams or fishing bait. The two of them had always fantasized about leaving – it was what children did. Pierce would keep one of the magikarp he so often fished for her, instead of selling them away. He'd tame an awesome pokémon for himself, and they'd see Kanto together.

When had been the last time she'd heard him say that? When had been the last time they even spoke about leaving together? She couldn't remember. Lately, it was all about her, and when was _she_ going to leave, because Pierce was going on ahead. Couldn't she see?

"Right," Geneva said, staring at the pavement. Her fingers fiddled with her necklace. "Of course; you're right."

"When am I ever not?" Pierce asked, and went down the stone stairway that led down to their street. Geneva watched him, unwilling to move. Preserving this sight as well as she could into her brain: Pierce's unruly brown hair, the swagger of his movements as he climbed down the thin stairwell, the orange sky framed by buildings and the dark cut of the Rock mountains. Her heart tightened inside her chest, and she followed after.

* * *

Her mother had come home in a foul mood, complaining about children who kept leaving greasy handprints on the graves, and the two had had a quiet dinner. Geneva had washed the dishes, had absently watched the news alongside her mother, and then had retreated to her room. It looked emptier than usual – she wasn't given to decorating, and neither was Mother, but still. One glance at her shelf found her piggy bank, untouched after years and years, and she reached out for it, unlatching the bottom lid.

Geneva would have liked to hear the clatter of the coins against the wood of her desk, but didn't want to risk angering her mother; the money sprawled across her bed covers instead. Working at the graveyard for the last couple of years – ever since Pierce's dad had passed away and he convinced her to get a job – she'd amassed a small fortune. Half of Geneva's paycheck had always gone to her mother, of course, but still. There was enough here to pay for the exam, though not for a pokédex nor a pokégear, and she would still be able to buy a pokémon for herself. Nothing too fancy, of course; something sturdy and strong, enough to protect her. She wasn't Pierce, she didn't need a flashy pokémon. She just wanted to travel alongside him, and the season for beginning trainers had begun in April. It wasn't too late to find a discount, somewhere. She could—

"Geneva."

The creak of her bedroom door startled her, though not as much as her mother's voice. Geneva turned on her heel, wishing that her body would somehow be enough to cover up the sight of years' worth of earnings as it rested on top of her bed. Her mother was already in her nightgown, her robe firmly wrapped around her – but there was no sleep in those eyes. There was only realization and the beginning of a storm.

"Explain," Mother said, walking inside and motioning towards the bed.

Geneva couldn't. Her words caught and stilled like terrified prey. She wasn't even able to muster a stammer.

"Do I need to ask again?" Her mother frowned at her, crossing her arms.

"W-Well, I—I was just—"

"Are you leaving, Geneva?" she asked.

"No! I was just – I wanted to know – "

"It's about Pierce, isn't it?" Her tone cooled over like she'd swallowed ice. Geneva's insides went just as cold. Her mother walked past her, the soft fabric of her robe pressing against Geneva's shoulder, and began gathering the bills. Most were folded in half, pristinely. She tucked them into the mankey piggybank first, and then moved onto the crumpled ones. "Why are you like this, Geneva?"

"I'm not," she whispered. "I wasn't going to—"

"You're an idiot," her mother cut in, still gathering the money. "You've run after him all your life. When will it stop?"

"He's my best friend," Geneva replied, despite herself.

The systematic clang of coins dropping into clay sounded too loud in her room.

"He's leaving without you. Open your eyes, Geneva. Open your eyes and _see_ , for gods' sakes."

"I-I am—"

"No!" her mother shouted, turning back to face her. There were still coins on her bed, and the clay mankey was still open, lying on its side. Her mother's hands gripped at her shoulders, like a vice grip, and they shook once. "No, you're not! I don't know _what_ you see, but it's not there! He's leaving, Geneva. He's leaving you and he doesn't care."

Geneva stared into her mother's brown eyes. They'd always been vivid, bright, and fiery. Geneva's were gray, a dark, unwashed shade that had only looked alive on her father's irises. After he'd died, Mother had hardly looked Geneva in the face.

"I know," she finally said, looking down at the knot of the robe's belt. Her voice was so small, she wasn't sure her mother would hear.

Her mother's expression twisted into something Geneva couldn't recognize. Her eyes narrowed, dropping to meet Geneva's necklace, and then rising to her face once more. Her fingers tightened even more, that ugly, sad feeling deepening all the lines in her mother's face, and then:

"Leave, then," she spat, and walked out. The slam of her bedroom's door was sure to be the talk of their neighbors, in the morning, but Geneva didn't care. She kneeled by the bed, instead, and scooped the money from inside the piggybank once more.

Once morning came, she would run out to meet with Pierce, and she'd take the exam with him. He'd get a perfect score, but she'd always joined him in the library when she had the time, and she could probably pass. Then they'd look for a starter together, and she could loan him some money, because Pierce's pokémon would likely be more expensive.

Once morning came, they would leave Lavender behind, like they'd promised. She would see Kanto with her own two eyes while he challenged the gyms. Maybe she'd even try her hand at one or two – the easiest ones, of course. She'd heard Misty was a fair, kind-hearted girl, and there were a lot of grass types in Kanto.

One morning came, Geneva woke with the sun high in the sky. Panic washed over her – she rose to a standing position, her knees and back aching, and searched for her alarm clock. It was nowhere to be found. The piggybank, at least, was still clutched between her hands, several bills and coins scattered across the covers. Geneva opened the door to her room and ran downstairs despite the awful pain in her knees, and –

There, on the kitchen table. Her mother had written: _Leave, but do it alone. For once._ Beside the paper, she had set Geneva's alarm clock, and the batteries. Geneva looked up to the kitchen wall, and found the red circle, the watch hands ticking away like they did every other day.

Geneva hadn't cried since her dad had died. And she didn't cry at the sight of the time (at the thought that Pierce had gone on to never return), but she didn't know how.

* * *

Arthur waved at her once she reached the gates, and made his way across the graveyard. Geneva was already sweating; the day was warm, and the climb uphill always left her out of breath.

"What happened? I didn't think you were coming," he asked. Geneva flinched, expecting to be berated, but when she looked she found only concern.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking at the floor again. "I overslept. My alarm clock didn't go off."

"That's fine, girlie," he laughed, setting one hand on her shoulder. "We're nearly done with the cleaning, so you can go home if you'd like. Oh!" He brought one hand to his wrinkled forehead and snapped his fingers. "Before that, however," he added, motioning for her to follow as he limped towards the supply shed. Geneva dutifully did so. "Got your last paycheck right here."

The envelope slid into her hands. Arthur smiled down at her, leaning against the door jamb.

"You do finer work than many folks your age, you know that? Very diligent, very focused. I'll be counting on you for the fall season, as well," he said, and Geneva's fingers crumpled the paper just slightly.

"Oh, I'm – I'm not going to be able to," she muttered, glancing over at the gates. The bell's clapper was dangling in the breeze, though not enough to sound.

Arthur's face lit up, instead of the disappointment she'd been waiting for.

"Going off on your journey, are you?" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "I heard the Outerridge boy was leaving, too. The two of you are friends, aren't you?"

Geneva nodded, fingers tight around the envelope. The doubt stung like the bruises on her shoulders. _Aren't you?_

"Good on you. Saw the world myself, you know. It's a good thing to do."

Was it selfish to think it would've been better if she'd gone along with Pierce? There weren't many people her age in Lavender, nor was there a trainer school for them to attend. Geneva's family had never been part of the community, at least not in the way Pierce's had. Mother was too cold – had been, ever since Dad had died – and Geneva wasn't good with people. The boys had pulled on her hair and the girls had called her the dead girl – there had only ever been Pierce. Was it selfish? Was _she_ selfish?

"Thank you," Geneva said, and slid the envelope into her jacket's inner pocket.

"Of course," Arthur said, grinning. "If you ever get the itch to clean, you know where to find me."

She did. Some people didn't leave; some people did, but they came back. It wasn't uncommon. Arthur probably expected her to return once winter struck.

Geneva offered one last nod and made her way down the hill, while Arthur waved. The fading sounds of the bell accompanied her into the mouth of the town, along with the wafting wildflowers and the streaming wheat fields.

* * *

The clerk perked up when the doors slid open, but, at the sight of Geneva, only huffed and returned to his magazine. She immediately walked in between the closest shelves, feeling awkward, and tried to pat down the unruliness in her hair.

The air conditioner was set to a cool temperature, which helped her feel calmer, and she began analyzing the items on the shelves. She was going to need supplies – her piggybank was still at home, but she was hoping her paycheck would be enough to buy battle items. After all, she wouldn't need much; she still didn't have a starter pokémon, and she wouldn't need many potions or full heals. The road to Saffron was well-maintained, and the fair weather had been bringing pilgrims to Lavender. Despite the anxiety Geneva couldn't help but to feel, knowing the road would be populated made her believe she would be okay.

"Should've figured you were going to leave too," Joshua said, without looking up from his magazine. Geneva froze, eyes stuck on the colorful labels of the healing ointments. "I'm surprised you didn't tag along with Pierce."

"Mm," Geneva managed, feeling nervous. Joshua hadn't talked to her in years – but she supposed the fact she was always with Pierce had helped.

Holding several bottles and a first-aid kit in her hands, she walked off to the counter and dropped them there. She should've – she should've remembered Joshua usually held the lunch-hour shifts. She should've gone home.

"Is this all you're taking?" he asked, setting down his magazine. He rose one eyebrow. "Aren't you taking pokéballs?"

Geneva felt her ears go hot. Wordlessly, she backtracked to the shelves, and grabbed a couple of the cheapest models. She didn't want to tell him she didn't even have a starter yet. It wasn't as if Joshua was a trainer, but his older sister was a competitive battler of some renown, and he knew his stuff.

"That'll be two thousand and fifty yen," Joshua said, setting the items into a plastic bag. He held it out for her, while she pulled the bills out of the envelope.

"Thank you," Geneva managed, taking care not to touch him as she took the bag's handles. Her ears were still warm, and she wanted nothing more than to get home, where he couldn't look at her.

Joshua, unaware (or uncaring) of her plight, waited for the receipt to print, and offered it to her along with her change. This time, there was no way for their hands not to touch. Geneva forced a blank face, and slid the money into her jeans' front pocket.

"Thank you for your purchase," Joshua said, a little dryly. Geneva nodded, and stepped back to leave. "Look, Geneva," he added, picking up his magazine again. "I just wanted to say – I'm sorry for everything. I hope everything goes well on your journey."

She blinked at him, her stomach tight. What did everything mean? Pulling her hair when they were younger, to the point where her mother had had to cut it short? Getting into fistfights with Pierce and calling her names? Constantly making her feel like she was gum stuck to the underside of a shoe?

Geneva didn't reply, but then again Joshua probably didn't expect her to. She just left, and practically ran all the way home. She regretted it, of course, hurriedly taking off her jacket and pulling her damp shirt away from her chest. The handle of the faucet was cool as she poured herself a drink, ignoring the fact that the alarm clock and her mother's note were still in the same place. _So she hasn't come home for lunch,_ Geneva thought, setting down the glass.

Climbing the stairs to the upper floor, she began packing a mental backpack – Pierce had gone through the theory of it so many times it was hard not to remember all the necessary items, even if Geneva was still lacking camping stuff. Saffron had a large mall, though; she could make the trip before she needed to use a tent or a sleeping bag.

She'd need a hat, a warm jacket, at least three pairs of pants, underwear, but above all – she'd need her father's old army knife. Pierce had wanted it, too, and there were lots of things Geneva would give him without a second thought, but her father's old things were hers and her mother's. He'd thrown a tantrum, and she'd apologized until he came around, but she'd never yielded to him.

It was a good knife. It was larger than most, worn and well-loved, with chipped red paint. Her father had carved his last name on it. Geneva held it in her palm, and slid it in her front pocket. It was a little too large to walk comfortably; she'd have to take a jacket with pockets on her chest or belly. She pulled it out and set it on her desk, and then pulled her bag from under her bed: another memento from her father.

They'd had to sell things, after he'd gotten sick, but he hadn't allowed his training supplies to go. Mother had been livid – _you don't even_ have _pokémon anymore –_ and Geneva hadn't understood, but she was thankful her mother hadn't … hadn't forced her to … It didn't matter.

Geneva sat on the floor of her room and packed, feeling oddly hollow.

* * *

The least she could do before leaving was to speak to Mother. It didn't matter that they'd argued; such things were only too common in their household, and Geneva was used to dealing with them.

She wondered if she should leave her bag at home, lest the sight of it inflame her mother's temper once more, but in the end gathered her courage and her supplies. She didn't want to have to return home to get it – the trip was tiring and the bag heavy, and Geneva wasn't too keen on having to go up and down stairs and side-streets when all she wanted was to leave.

Janet had smiled at her when Geneva entered the Tower, a mix of warmth and pity, and had excused herself from counter duty in order to go get Mother. Geneva took deep breaths while she waited, her hands shaking – the Tower had always made her feel out of sorts. It wasn't as if death particularly frightened Geneva; she'd grown used to that, too. But the Tower wasn't just death. It was dark corners and breezy rooms, where the shadows were the stuff Geneva had had nightmares about when she'd been a child.

"So," Mother's voice swept in, as the door to the break room closed behind her. Geneva looked away from the closest grave – the ones in the lower levels were always so clean they nearly sparkled – and into her mother's brown eyes. "I see you've managed to pack your bags without Pierce's help."

It stung. Geneva bit the inside of her cheek and nodded.

"I wanted – I wanted to say goodbye, mother," she murmured, resisting the urge to wring her hands. "I'll call when I get to Saffron."

She wouldn't say _I'll miss you_. Pierce probably hadn't, and Geneva didn't know whether she would feel the words or not. It was better to be honest, sometimes, and silence would be the next best thing.

Mother was pursing her lips, eyes drifting from Geneva's messy hair to the tips of her boots. Then she sighed, bringing one hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, and dug into the back pocket of her pants.

"I'll be waiting," she said, and set a minimized pokéball on top of the counter. "Don't forget to name it."

And with that, Mother left as smoothly as she'd first walked in. Geneva heard the door click, but her eyes were on the pokéball. They weren't very expensive, though Lavender's prices when it came to pokémon supplies were steeper than most cities. But it was a pokéball, and the red color flared against the white surface of the counter—

Geneva picked it up without thinking, and clicked the button once. It didn't feel warm to the touch like she'd expected, nor heavy with signs of life. Confusion washed over her. She looked around the room and found an old couple paying respects – she pocketed the pokéball and walked out, unwilling to draw attention in such a solemn place. What if her mother had gotten her some loud, flashy pokémon? Geneva wouldn't put it past her, if only because Mother hadn't agreed to Geneva's journey. Or was it the reason the thing she was against? Either way, it didn't matter.

The sun outside was still high in the sky. Geneva walked across the plaza, averting her eyes from the terrifying mosaics, and felt the pokéball's hard surface dig into her butt with every step she took. There was an empty alley behind the ceramics' shop – she and Pierce had made it their hideout more than once – and she entered the dusky street without regard for the kids squatting next to the trash can.

"Look," the small girl whispered, "that's the dead girl. My sister says she's a cad – a cada—"

"A cadaver," said the boy, eyes wide as they looked up. Geneva recognized him – Joshua's youngest sibling. "She doesn't look ugly at _all,_ " he added, sounding disappointed.

The small girl made a sound of distress, and crossed her arms. Geneva felt her ears go hot with humiliation, and hurried to the very end of the alley as the children squabbled.

"You never tell me _I'm_ pretty!"

"That's 'cause you hit me when I do!"

She pulled out her pokéball, and raised it up. It didn't glint against the sun like Geneva thought it would – how silly of her. She was the one who'd walked into the shade. If Pierce had been here, he would've made fun of her, but he wasn't. She was going to have to get used to that.

The ball rolled off her fingers and into the floor – the white flash of light widened, then collapsed into itself, curling high over her head. Geneva smelled the gas, first, and only then saw the gastly peering down at her. _Figures,_ she thought, without knowing how to react. It was an obvious choice for a Lavenderer – there were hundreds of gastly in the Tower, and it wasn't like Mother would go out and buy Geneva a proper starter. To think that she'd _given_ Geneva one was astounding in itself.

"H-Hello," Geneva greeted, waving nervously. How did these sorts of things go?

The gastly blinked at her, and then its mouth broke into a toothy, threatening grin – and it lunged at her! Geneva barely had the time to kneel out of the way as the cloud of poison encapsulated her, the thick purple color blinding her. She brought one elbow up to curl around her nose and mouth and scrambled for the pokéball. The gastly sidled up to her, then, and the core of its body was cold enough that she shivered. There was nothing for her to touch; just the icy center of an already cold area. And the _smell_ —

Geneva recalled the gastly with shaking hands. Her heart was so loud, inside her chest – for a few seconds, it was all she could hear.

"Did you _see_ that," the girl screeched.

"She just ate a pokémon!" the boy shouted.

When Geneva turned to look at them, they went very still; then their hands clasped together and they broke into a run, crying out for help. She sighed, feeling embarrassed, and got to her feet while she dusted the knees of her jeans. _Not even your starter wants you_ , Pierce's voice laughed inside her head. _Holy shit, Gev, you're a riot._

Was this a normal thing to happen? In the movies, all it took was a glance, and the starter pokémon would practically run into their trainer's arms. Gastly had flung itself at her with a terrifying grin, and had – attempted to choke her? Maybe it had wanted to make her faint in order to flee? Had Mother gotten her a pokémon with no wishes to be a trainer's partner? The questions slid down her mind like a waterfall.

She placed the gastly's pokéball into the outward pocket of her jacket, where it clanged against her father's knife, and hurriedly walked off, in case either of the kids managed to convince anyone she'd been eating gastly for lunch. The plaza wasn't bustling today, but it wasn't empty, either. Geneva's dark clothes mixed amongst the rest – Lavender wasn't a city given to bright colors, despite its namesake – and she made her way to the city's gates. Friendly starter or not, she needed to start going.

The glass doors parted under her pushing hands. Inside the gateway, the air was cool. Geneva zipped her jacket together, rolling her shoulders, and made her way to the guard on duty. The woman glanced up at her from the numerous papers across her station, and offered a nod.

"May I help you, young lady?" she asked, closing the dossier she'd been reading. Geneva averted her gaze, feeling a little flustered, and nodded. The dossier cover read: _Traffic Statistics, May._

"I, um, I wanted to go to Saffron to get a trainer's license, please," she managed, fiddling with her necklace. The guard had a lovely handwriting.

"I see. Do you need directions? Have you've taken this route before?" the older woman asked, staring straight into Geneva's eyes. Geneva shook her head, fingers tight around the metal cross. "Very well. The route is fairly straightforward, apart from some wild grass here and there. If you somehow lose track of where you are, either retrace your steps or wait for the guard to spot you. There are patrols every half hour."

The older woman fondled her chin, eyes narrowing in thought.

"When I made my rounds earlier, I noticed there were some trainers on the southern side, so don't be surprised if you are challenged. Other than that, the wild pokémon are calm, though it's common for a growlithe to attach itself to a youngling trainer such as you. Their puppy eyes are the bane of many trainers – I'd know."

She pointed over her shoulder. Geneva strained to look over the counter, tip-toeing, and found a slumbering arcanine by the guard's feet.

"Is there anything else you'd like to know?"

Geneva shook her head, and attempted to smile – if the guard's perplexed face was any indicative, she didn't quite succeed. Her ears went a little hot, and she bowed her head.

"Thank you for your time," she said, and walked across the corridor. The breeze of hot air swerved between the closing glass doors, and Geneva opened her jacket again.

Before her, route eight waited.

* * *

 **OUTTERRIDGE** (English): Derived from the Old English given name _Uhtric_ which was composed of the elements _uht_ "dawn" and _ric_ "power".

* * *

 **A/N:** this chapter's song title is "decisions (ft. miley cyrus)", by bolgore.

i chose yen as the coin for the pokéworld because it was the currency the pokédollar was based on, and because writing _pokédollar_ everytime i need to write prices always sounds off to me.

regarding this story: pierce, geneva and mush were the first OCs that i ever created. i've had their story plotted out in my head since i was sixteen, and they're very important to me. i don't know why i started actually writing this, but i did, and here we are. i would really like feedback on this, since it's my love letter to kanto – you will find a lot of headcanons here, trust me – and i'll be upfront and say that reviews really matter to me. like any other writer, i write more when i know people are expecting things from me.

with that, i take my leave. i hope you've liked this chapter!


	2. Something That You've Never Seen

Okay, so, first off – no one ever calls her Guttuso. Just weird, y'know? Everyone always uses her first name. I dare you to ask anyone about the Guttuso girl; all you'll get are blank stares. Now, if you're done getting your coffee, I was just getting to the good part. Of course, if you _insist_ on interrupting me one more time, I might just have to take a bathroom break. Yeah, annoying, isn't it? What do I care if you can't stay up past two in the morning? Gods' sakes.

And no, I don't know what she did after I left. As far as I knew, she'd stick around and do her mysterious bidding. I had places to go, people to defeat. I wasn't going to – what? How do you know about that? … Huh. You didn't just go to get coffee, did you? You sneaky little shit. Gave you too little credit!

Yeah, there were deaths. I don't know where you were stationed when the Rocket trouble started, but I was right there in Kanto. So yeah, of course there were deaths. Which brings me to Mush again. Which is where I was at, before you went to get more info on me.

No, Mush isn't her first name. And, while I'm sure you know exactly all there is to know about her, I refuse to use her real name. Why? Because one, have you looked at her? Girl looks like a walking mushroom with that hairstyle. Poisonous like a foongus, too. And two, she hates it. Hoho, man, she hates it so much. It's fucking hilar—what? Uh, yeah. That's all. … Yes, I'm serious. If you knew her, you'd probably understand – it's not about the name being wrong, it's about who gave it to her. It's not even about the mushroom thing, though I'm sure that doesn't help.

Yes, I know I'm getting off-track. That's what you get for leaving in the best part of my story. Yeah, of course it's the best part – every part is the best. Picture it as a continuously rising scale of awesome—

Aha, okay, okay. No need to go all red and huffy. So, where was I? Saffron gym, right. I eventually went back there, and I eventually trounced Sabrina; but that was much later. Mush got to me first, after all.

We talked business, we agreed to a trade – no, not a pokémon one. More like a contract, if you will, an exchange of services – and we traded contacts. I didn't have a pokégear then, but she had, and I wrote down her number on my black book. It would be the first of many interesting contacts, but, if I absolutely have to be honest – she was probably the best one. If she were a card, she'd be the trump of all trumps.

What did we talk about? None of your business, and nothing that I would admit to doing or even considering. What did she want? If I didn't know what I know now, I'd say she was probably trying to pick me up. I mean – come on, right? But she wasn't. It was pure luck that brought us together. If it had been anyone else to walk into the Saffron Gym, she would have probably talked to them, too. And maybe none of this bullshit would have happened. But it was me, and it happened, and I wouldn't change it if I could.

Selfish? Yeah. Then again, I never said I wasn't.

Now, how about you bring me a cup of coffee, too?

* * *

 **Chapter II:  
Something That You've Never Seen, or I Wake Up and Act Like Nothing's Wrong**

* * *

She'd seen routes before; when Dad had still been alive, when Pierce had still been by her side. Mother hadn't liked that Geneva played on route ten, claiming there could be rabid raticate waiting to bite her eyes out, so she and Pierce would always head down south into route twelve. The Rock mountains were famous for being hard to traverse, and there was nothing for Geneva there; despite Pierce's wanderlust, she had only set foot there once or twice, and even then she'd been terrified that Mother would know.

Route twelve, the exact opposite, was composed mainly of bridges and small sand islands, and there were always fishermen around. Mother agreed to that at least, as long as the fishermen were people Geneva knew, and as long as there weren't vicious pokémon around. That worked; the pidgey never came too close, already used to being chased out for scaring the fish, and most tentacool were content with drifting along when it was sunny. And magikarp – well, magikarp were magikarp.

Pierce had been great at fishing. It was odd, considering how energetic the boy was, but then again Pierce took everything as a challenge. He liked to win, so it made sense he'd want to win at fishing, too. He'd sit by the end of the piers with his father's old fishing pole, and he wouldn't move until he was satisfied.

Geneva would scrounge for earthworms while Pierce filled the several buckets they'd bring along with them. The market, while not too large, would always buy whatever fish the two of them brought along. Now that she was older and facing the unknown, Geneva wondered if it had been only pity that had softened the merchants' hearts. Lavender was never in lack of fresh fish – all the fishermen down south made sure of that – and magikarp were hardly a delicacy, but there were always a few coins to be handed out to the two of them.

That was what Geneva kept of route twelve – fish, pocket money, and Pierce.

Route eight was nothing like it.

There was a fleeting memory of a larger hand in hers and the drawing of picket fences extending into the distance, but other than that, there was only the exciting element of discovery. Geneva marveled at the green grass and the tarred paths – Lavender didn't have those. The sight of skyscrapers cut against the cyan color of the sky, far away, and the paved tar had eroded here and there, allowing for small patches of resilient grass.

The only tall grass that Geneva could see had been surrounded by white picket fence; the only way to reach it was through the shrubs star trainers so often cut through on TV. The paint was peeling on the fences directly besides the grass, and Geneva made sure to give the area a wide berth, her hand around the minimized pokéball. There were no wild pokémon she could see, but … you never knew, after all, and she was willing to make this work (whatever _this_ was). What would her mother say if Geneva returned so soon, and so defeated?

"Hey! You!" a young voice called, at the same time the sound of shoes clapped louder and louder. Geneva startled, bringing gastly's pokéball to her chest and whirling around with wide eyes. "Are you a trainer!? _Yes_! I knew it! I challenge you—"

"No," Geneva cut in, heart beating in her chest. The schoolgirl frowned in confusion, eyes dropping to the red color inside Geneva's hands. "I'm – I'm sorry, I haven't—I don't have a license yet."

"Oh," the schoolgirl said, lips puckered in disappointment. "Sorry if I startled you, then! My mom says I need to work on my volume control," she added, offering an apologetic laugh, "but I like to abuse the element of surprise. Gives me an edge!"

How to reply to that? Geneva didn't know, nor could she. She just stared at the girl until she spoke again.

"Oh, are you heading to Lavender?"

Geneva's eyes rolled up to meet the Tower's sharp top, high above the gateway's green roof tiles. The cloud of gastly was thicker, today, but that was common in days without wind. In the summer, if the weather was moist and windless, the shadows cast by the gastly could sometimes extend across the entire plaza.

"Um, no. Saffron." It sounded weird, to say it aloud. No, I'm leaving my hometown. I'm leaving, I'm _leaving_.

"Cool! I'm heading there, too! Want to stick together? I've been trying to catch an abra, but they're so hard to fight! You blink and they go _whoosh_ and then all that's left is your pikachu staring up at nothing. Ugh!" The girl punched the air, frowning. Geneva frowned as well, slightly confused. "Want to help me? I'll help you catch one, too!"

"Oh. I – don't know. I'm not very good company," Geneva replied, winning an odd look from the schoolgirl. "I just got my starter pokémon," she added, feeling embarrassed, "and it doesn't like me very much."

The girl scoffed, making a dismissive hand gesture.

"They're always like that, when they're not from a lab. TV lies all the time, you know? It's super rare to—oh! Also, I'm Megan! Sorry, forgot to introduce myself," she laughed, extending a small hand. Geneva blinked, caught unaware, but managed to grasp it in hers, giving it a small shake. Megan's grip was firm and energetic, pulling Geneva's arm along.

"Geneva," Geneva muttered, feeling a little out-of-sorts. "Did your starter also …?"

Megan shook her head, grinning.

"I got mine from my teacher. I enrolled in Saffron's school, so I was given one that had already been tamed. Me and my pikachu hit it off right away! Of course, the rest of my pokémon didn't like me very much at first." She laughed, and unclipped a pokéball from her pink belt. "This pidgey here still goes off where she wants, when I don't pay attention. I have to keep a can of worms to make her come back without a big fuss."

Geneva rolled her gastly's pokéball into her jacket's pocket once more, wondering what gastly ate. Apart from the creepy rumors about life force that had been all the rage in elementary school, she had no idea. Had it been trying to suck out Geneva's soul, before? The thought made her wish Mother had never given it in the first place. But then, would she have been capable of getting another pokémon herself?

"Don't look so sad," Megan said, frowning. Geneva felt her ears go hot, and ducked her face down, schooling her expression into something more neutral. "Come on, I'll help you! You should start by getting your starter used to you. I'll let out Bolty in case anything goes wrong."

Geneva stilled. Megan's expression was expectant, the smile on her face just the right shade of excited. But she was a little girl – even smaller than Geneva, with a cheerful smile and … The gastly had felt so cold.

"Have you ever seen a gastly?" Geneva asked, eyes on the floor. Megan's fidgety body stilled, hands falling to her sides.

"Your starter is a _gastly_?" she asked, surprise coloring every note. "But they're so hard to handle! Why did you pick a gastly?"

"I didn't." She forced herself to glance into Megan's eyes.

"Oh. Sorry, I guess. Um, it's fine, though!" Platitudes never worked, did they? Geneva didn't feel fine at all.

The sun was beating down on them. Geneva felt hot inside her jacket, but didn't want to take it off. Megan, in her skirt and t-shirt, didn't seem affected in the least. She had tan marks where her clothes ended, both her sleeves and the plaids of her skirt.

"Let's see how it goes anyway! I've been training for a little while, and I bet your gastly hasn't leveled up enough to be a threat."

Geneva frowned in confusion. Leveled up? What did that mean?

"Oh! Wow, you're really starting out, aren't you? Ever since Professor Oak released the pokédex to the public, it's been super easy to see the difference in pokémon power. My teacher explains it better," she muttered, blushing slightly, "but still! Did you ever play those old arcade games with the health bars and the—oh, it's fine if you didn't!"

There were no arcades in Lavender. Pierce had had handheld devices when they'd been kids, though, and he'd lent some to her. Geneva nodded, picturing the buttons and the moving characters.

"So, yeah. It's like this thing that tells you how much health your pokémon has, and what moves it's learned – it revolutionized the world of battling. Even if some people say it's pandering to untalented trainers, I'm all for it!"

Geneva knew what a pokédex was. Starting out or not, she had a TV, and Pierce had been obsessed with keeping up to date. The vocabulary used by trainers was unknown to her, though, and she let Megan speak – she was in no rush to walk off alone, and the girl was nice enough to bother with Geneva.

"Do you have one?" she asked.

"Yeah!" Megan rustled through her bag, frowning in concentration, and produced a red machine with a wide grin. "They're really expensive, but the school lends one to every trainer. When I graduate I'll have to give it back," her face fell, "but it's mine for now. Let out your gastly, and I'll analyze it!"

She sounded sure, and the ball in her hand glistened, as if saying – go on, girl; let us do the job you can't. Geneva nodded, and let the gastly's pokéball roll from her hand, and into the floor.

The chill was instantaneous. The cloud of gas smelled of sulfur and bleach, an odd mix, and Geneva moved back without thinking. Megan did too, frowning at the gastly with a disgusted expression. Thankfully, the pokémon didn't dart out to strike, instead lingering, eyes swinging from one girl to the other.

"Yuck! I didn't know they smelled like dead people!" Megan stage-whispered, while the pokédex's light fragmented across the gastly. The beep was loud – it seemed Megan had chosen not to mute the machine – and the mechanical voice sounded out.

"Gastly," it said, over the whirring of the camera shutter. It sounded just like the ads had portrayed it. "A being that exists as a thin gas. Almost invisible, this gaseous pokémon can cloak its target and disable it without its notice – either by fainting it or by outright asphyxiating it. It is a pokémon recommended for a competent trainer."

"There are some news about it, too," Megan was reading, frowning at the screen. "But I guess they don't matter right now. According to the 'dex, your gastly is sitting at level seventeen! That's really high for a starter!"

Geneva stared at the gastly in horror. The League had defined the most powerful pokémon as one-hundreds – most starter pokémon were in the low single digits. The gastly's tongue lolled out, making a flicking motion towards her – was it mocking her, or just tasting the air? Geneva's hand was tight around its pokéball, ready to return it if needed.

"It's licking!" Megan pointed out in alarm, and released a pikachu. It was still small – it reached her knees – which meant she hadn't had it for long. The gastly was small, too, Geneva supposed, but its cloud spread too far for her to be comfortable with its size. She wouldn't be able to release it in a closed room. "Bolty, tear down its defense! Distract it for a while, okay?"

Bolty nodded, and ran off to the cloud's frontier, stopping a few steps behind. Then it turned around and wagged its tail, attracting the gastly's attention. Megan took the chance to come closer to Geneva, holding the pokédex out for her to see.

"Look, see? It's already got a decent move list. And," she gasped, eyes widening, "it's got mean look! Oh, please, _please_ help me get an abra! They won't be able to teleport if we use your gastly!"

Bolty cried out for attention before Geneva could reply. The pikachu was running circles around the gastly, tail drawn up high.

"Oh, um, thunder wave!" Megan cried out, and then turned over to Geneva. The yellow tail of her pikachu sprung up and the lightning sprayed in a straight line, but missed its target – the dark center. "Do you want to try and give your gastly an order? Here, feel free to see what you can use."

The pokédex was pushed into Geneva's hands. The cover hung off the side; Geneva tucked it back carefully (these things were ridiculously expensive), and skimmed the bold letters that drifted down the screen.

"Um, gastly?" she said, feeling embarrassed at the sound of her voice echoing across the plain. The cloud stopped evading the pikachu's attacks, and the center turned on itself – the eyes stared right down into Geneva's. Her voice went out, throat closing up; the anxiety bloomed like a poisonous flower. At her side, Megan was waiting.

The pikachu's cheeks went bright with sparks. The gastly did not look away.

"Night shade," Geneva read slowly, and the air around them went dark with the pull of energy. The pikachu cried out in alarm, stiffening, and backtracked hurriedly. The fur on its back was crackling, and its body shook with fear. Megan stilled, the smile dropping from her face.

"Wow," she said, staring up at the gastly. In Geneva's hands, the pokédex warned that Bolty's health had dropped seventeen points – nearly a third of its full health. "That's amazing!"

Geneva couldn't tell what was so amazing about such scary tactics, but she didn't voice her thoughts. The gastly's mouth broke into a wide grin at the compliment, and effortlessly evaded the pikachu's retaliatory tackle. Bolty passed through the center without an effect other than a wince – the gastly laughed as the pikachu shivered and backtracked, hissing.

"Come on, Bolty! You know physical attacks won't work! Use thundershock instead!"

Bolty's cheeks crackled with electricity, and a crack of lightning fell right across gastly's center. The gastly made a noise not unlike a deflating balloon, its cloud growing smaller. Its eyes moved from Geneva's to the pikachu, narrowing to slits –

"Um, use night shade again?" Geneva asked, trying to read through the pokédex list. It was confusing to try and set apart the move names from the types they belonged to, from the levels they were learned at, from the –

But the gastly swept down the field, instead of drawing the darkness once more. Geneva startled, ready to jump out of harm's way, but the gastly wasn't aiming at her. The swaying tongue licked from the pikachu's sparking cheeks to the end of its tail, and Bolty shivered again, trying to jump out of the way.

"Hey!" Megan crossed her arms. "Listen to your trainer, gastly!"

The gastly's laugh was a wheezy thing, as it floated out of the flinching pikachu's reach. Its cloud was a little more transparent than before, but the gray color was still present.

"Another thunder wave, Bolty! Hit her, this time!"

Geneva felt surprised – her gastly was a girl? How had Megan known?

There wasn't time to wonder. The small ray of light that sprung from the pikachu's cheeks managed to strike the gastly. She hissed at the contact, and tried to float away, but her movements were choppy and slower than before.

"Good one!" Megan praised, pumping a small fist. "Now you try!" she said, turning to Geneva. "She heard you the first time, so you should keep trying to get her to listen. That's what I've been trying with my pidgey, anyway. Nag 'em 'till you train 'em!"

Bolty and the ghastly were drawing a circle, moving away from one another. Both were paralyzed, and it was hypnotizing to see – their ailments had seemingly synchronized: when one flinched, so did the other. Geneva's breath skipped whenever the ghastly flinched. She would drop a few inches from the air, as if she couldn't keep afloat anymore, only to rise again.

"Um, r-right," Geneva said, looking down at the 'dex again. "Um, curse? Use curse."

The ghastly turned to give Geneva an enigmatic look, and then—

"Oh, gods," Megan whispered, eyes wide and horrified. The ghastly's core split cleanly in half, one part fading into the cloud and disappearing. Geneva's jaw slackened. The gastly hadn't even cried out as half its body had been – it hadn't –

Geneva only barely managed not to throw up. Megan looked a little green, herself, but the gastly only laughed, voice weaker than before, and swept down on the pikachu. Bolty was flinching, and, with every move, seemed struck by an invisible force –

"Excuse me," Megan said quickly, stealing her pokédex out of Geneva's hands. Her eyes were fast as they read through, and then she heaved out a sigh of relief. "Oh, now I get it. Wow, ghost types really _are_ something else."

She handed it back with a wobbly smile.

 _Curse,_ it read, _formerly a move of an unknown type; it has been recently discovered to belong to ghost type families. The user, if a ghost type, will sacrifice its own health to curse the target. A cursed pokémon will lose one quarter of its maximum health with each move it uses. The only way to stop the curse is to switch out the pokémon, or to let it faint. If the move is used by a type belonging to non-ghost type, it instead …_

She couldn't read all the way. The description alone was enough to bring a queasy taste up to Geneva's dry mouth. But, added up with the sight of her gastly broken in half, disappearing – she looked up at her pokémon, still laughing and flinching. Megan sighed, and called back her pikachu.

"Good job, Bolty," she murmured, against the red surface of the pokéball, and pressed a light kiss on it before stashing it in her belt. Gastly hissed, the cloud widening into sharp spikes, and Geneva remembered to return it before it made any untoward advances towards the two of them.

"I'm sorry," Geneva said, the regret imbedded into her words. Megan gave her an odd look, and then offered a bright smile.

"Don't be sorry! This is what battling is all about! Granted, most battles aren't this weird," she pointed at Geneva's lone pokéball and shrugged, "but that was fun, anyway! Your gastly completely decimated Bolty."

Geneva still didn't think it was okay. It was one thing to watch the televised League matches they showed – they were all flashing fires and jets of ice water – but it was another to see how a ghost type fought. Gastly had split half her body without even a wince … Geneva suppressed the urge to shiver, and placed the pokéball in her pocket while Megan looked at her wristwatch.

"Oh, shoot! I have to bolt," the younger girl said, straightening. "I have a night-time class today – we're going to try and watch noctowl," she explained, adjusting the handle of her bag. "Wanna join me? I'll swing by a pokécenter, first."

Geneva blinked at the quickness with which Megan had decided so many things, but offered a nod. It was better to travel with someone who was so chatty – Geneva wouldn't have to ask for directions, that way. She adjusted her backpack, too, and walked alongside the younger girl.

"Over there is where the growlithe and the vulpix usually hunt." She pointed at the white picket fence. She whispered: "It's closed off to avoid kids going in the tall grass, but anyone can just hop the fence if they really want to."

Geneva made a point not to hop any fences, ever.

"The growlithe are usually glad to be caught, unless they have babies to look after. The vulpix are a lot harder to pin down, babies or no babies! If you want one, you'll probably have to set up camp somewhere nearby and go on stake-outs."

The girl was clearly a good student, pointing out various spots for pokémon and how to best catch one (or how to flee from one). Geneva did her best to remember her words, valuable as they were, as Megan chattered all the way to the gateway.

* * *

Upon entering the city, Geneva had gawked; she hadn't been able to help it. Saffron was larger than anything she'd ever seen. The paved stone was dirty, but it seemed to coat every inch of the city's floor – Lavender's plaza was the only part of the town to be paved like that. There were at least five sewer grates and ten streetlights in every street, and the smell of cement and smoke had flooded her nose since the first step outside the gateway.

And the _people!_ She had never seen so many people together, not even during the bi-yearly pilgrimages to the Tower. Most walked with hurried steps, staring down at their pokégears or their wristwatches, while others tried to peddle their wares or their pitiful life stories. But there was something they all shared – a clear, practiced skill in the science of dodging.

"Welcome to Saffron, the shining big city. Grand, isn't it?" Megan asked sarcastically.

Geneva's whole body wanted to go back into the peaceful route. The trainers they'd met along the way had left them alone when Megan explained Geneva didn't have a license yet, and the setting sun had convinced most wild pokémon to return to their nests. Saffron, though … Saffron was a far, far cry from the sleepy route – a rough wake-up call.

"The closest pokécenter is over by the gym," Megan said, and pulled on Geneva's sleeve. "Come on, before someone tries to swindle us again."

Geneva managed a shaky nod, and trailed after the shorter girl. She kept her eyes on the dirty pavement, attempting to blend into the crowd as best she could – it was weird to walk like this, brushing shoulders with people she didn't know, hearing tidbits of conversations, smelling the perfume of whoever got too close. Her heart was beating hard in her chest, and she found herself gripping her gastly's pokéball until her palm ached.

"How about a couple of silver hairpins, miss? Frame that beautiful face of yours!" a boy called out, motioning towards a rickety-looking stall. It was covered in glinting jewels, from necklaces to earrings to the aforementioned hairpins.

"Ugh," Megan scoffed, and pulled on Geneva harder, until the smiling boy had vanished behind more people. "Whatever story they spin, it's better if you don't buy anything. Most of those are either stolen or fake. Just stick to the mall or the marts, if you need to buy things."

Geneva nodded dumbly, feeling her ears heat. Megan looked over her shoulder appraisingly.

"Though you should probably buy some hairpins, or a hairband – all that hair might get in the way if you're out in the wild. Do you want a scrunchie?" She stuck out her free wrist, where a myriad of colorful elastics were bound around. "I have more at home, so you can take a few."

Geneva shook her head, feeling the blush intensify.

"I don't really like pulling up my hair," she confessed. Megan was the first person apart from her mother whom she'd ever told. Did she even know the weight of the truth imparted to her? From the way she'd shrugged and smiled, probably not.

"Suit yourself! Just be _careful_ when you're outside., okay? With hair that long, there are lots of ways for it to get stuck on shrubs, or even get caught by wild pokémon! It's why I keep mine in a ponytail."

Was it really that easy? Geneva was used to getting her hair pulled on, but that hadn't happened in years, and it wasn't as if other kids were out to maul her when they did it. Biting the inside of her cheek, she made a mental note to buy a few scrunchies, just in case. It wasn't as if she had to always keep her hair tied up – just in extreme cases. Yes, she figured, feeling satisfied, that would be good enough.

"There we go," Megan muttered, under her breath, swerving to the side to avoid bumping into an angry-looking businessman. "The northernmost pokécenter – also known as the gym pokécenter! Let's hurry up and head inside," she added, half-jogging, "I'm tired of walking into people."

Geneva couldn't agree more. Even if Saffron and Lavender were close to one another, the walk through the route had tired her out, and the attempt at coaching her brand-new gastly had planted several seeds of doubt inside Geneva. She wanted nothing more than to head into a calm space and eat a hot meal.

The pokécenter doors slid open, much to Geneva's surprise, and Megan walked in.

Lavender's only pokécenter had been built like the rest of the town – it was a stocky, wide, one-floor building, with a door you had to push open. It creaked in the summer and when it rained, because the wood swelled. The silent little swish from the metal door was nearly unbelievable. Geneva glanced at the slit where the metal door had disappeared into, and then walked after Megan quickly, afraid the door would close in on her.

Looking around, she found several trainers sitting down and watching the evening news – none of them Pierce, she noticed, and the disappointment flared.

It wasn't as if she'd been hoping to find him. No, that wasn't true. She _had_ hoped to find him. She wanted to tell him about her first day as a non-official trainer, wanted to show him her gastly, wanted to trail after him and journey alongside him.

"What are you waiting for?" Megan called out, from the counter. The trainers turned on their benches to look at the commotion, and Geneva hurriedly ducked her head, walking briskly towards the younger girl. "You can watch the news later! The sooner we heal our pokémon, the sooner you're free to lounge about."

"Right," Geneva muttered, taking out her gastly's pokéball.

There was a door behind the counter – beside it, a large glass pane that allowed them to see into the storage. There were at least a hundred pokéballs that Geneva could see, with some flashes of blue and black amongst them. She'd never seen balls better than pokéballs being used. Just the ones that sat in the shelves of the Lavender mart, and those were always locked away behind glass and plastic.

"How can I help you?" the nurse on duty said, setting down a tray full of pokéballs. He had a kind smile, if tired.

"Good evening! We have a pikachu and a gastly that need fixing up," Megan answered, holding out her own pokéball. Geneva did the same. "Also, my friend here is going to need a room."

"Of course," the young man said, plucking out the pokéballs and setting them alongside the ones on the tray. "Just swipe your trainer card over there and I'll hand you the keycard."

"A-Actually," Geneva managed, feeling embarrassed, "I'm not a trainer yet. I'm here to request the, um, the exam. For trainers."

The young man's smile didn't wane. If anything, it became a little brighter.

"Taking the big plunge, are you? It's been a while since we had any exam-takers!" he said, grabbing the tray again. "I'll be with you in a minute. Feel free to sit down."

So Pierce hadn't requested his exam here. Geneva nodded, trying not to feel too disappointed, and followed after Megan as she chose a place on the couches. The TV's sound was too low to hear, but someone had activated the subtitles.

"How old are you?" Megan asked suddenly, staring at Geneva.

"Um. Fourteen," Geneva muttered, looking away from the news' anchor. Two months more, and she'd be fifteen; six more, and Pierce would be the same age.

"Really? I'm twelve," the younger girl went on. "You look a lot older than me, though. I thought you were at least sixteen. Or a short seventeen-year-old."

Geneva didn't know whether to feel insulted or complimented. She'd always been tall for her age, but not that much. Pierce had always been the same height, so it had never bothered her much.

"You should be careful," Megan said, in a lower tone. "People tend to expect things out of you when they think you're old enough. And Saffron can be a rough city, when you aren't used to it. Try not to go out at night, if you can."

Geneva hadn't planned on it. Sure, she would find out where the other pokécenters were – she had to at least try and meet Pierce – but not at night. Besides, she was tired, and she only wanted to go into her room and enjoy the silence.

"Okay," she promised. Then, in a curious whisper: "Is it really that unsafe out?"

Megan's smile seemed a little remorseful. She wrung her hands and glanced at the TV. There was an ad for a beauty product running.

"It's not – unsafe, if you have pokémon by your side. I've got my own team, and I'm a local, anyway. I know the places to avoid and the places to be. You should just try and get used to the feel of the city before you—look," she sighed, face reddening, "there is more to Saffron than just battling and business. You don't want to get mixed up in that stuff, trust me."

Geneva nodded dumbly, aware the point Megan was trying to make was flying right through her. But it didn't seem like it was a conversation she particularly wanted to have, so Geneva let it go, unwilling to bother the younger girl.

"Good," Megan said, and smiled, just as the nurse walked up to them. He was holding a chart in his hands.

"Hello again," he greeted, offering a nod. "I'll have to get your credentials, if you don't mind. It's just the usual things – name, surname, age, hometown – stuff like that."

He handed the clipboard to Geneva and pointed at the counter with his thumb, over his shoulder.

"I'll be in the back room, but feel free to ring the bell when you're done. Either me or Sarah – er, Nurse Sarah – will come get your registration papers."

Geneva nodded, while Megan peered into the chart's contents.

"Sorry," she said, grinning very unapologetically, "it's just – I'll have to file one of those eventually, and I've never had the chance to see it before!"

"It's okay." Geneva looked down at the chart.

The nurse hadn't lied: it was a rather simple form, with lines for her to write on and small squares for her to cross out. She'd had to file out things like these in elementary school, and habit took over her hand as she wrote down personal details. Then it stilled, when she skimmed over the training part of the form.

"What do you think I should put here?" she asked Megan. The younger girl frowned in confusion, cocking her head.

"Well, that's up to you, isn't it?" Megan took the chart from Geneva's hands in order to point at it with her index finger. "Most starting trainers never pick a favorite type. Unless you really want to become, oh, I dunno, a bird trainer or something like that – just let me tell you, it's really hard to catch pokémon who fly!"

Geneva stared blankly at her.

"I want to be a beauty class," Megan confessed, blushing a little. "I've always looked up to them, and I like the variety of pokémon they use. What do you see yourself as?"

Honestly, Geneva had no idea. It wasn't as if she'd wanted to become a trainer for the battling; it was just a way to see the world for herself. It had been a way to join Pierce, too, though that had been placed out of the picture for now. She found herself frowning at the empty line on the paper.

"Uh, okay then," Megan drawled, looking at the form again. "If you're not sure, just leave it blank. Only the trainers who really want something usually use that option. Like me, for example! I'd have put in beauty class. Bevin – he's from my class – would have put tamer class, because he's deluded, and he thinks taming wild pokémon for a living is easy."

Geneva nodded unsurely, receiving the chart from Megan.

"Over there, you put the starter you've already gotten," the girl went on, pointing. "It's for people like you and me, who start training before they get a proper license."

"Do you not have one?" Geneva asked, writing down _gastly_ slowly.

"A license? Yeah, but not a real one. I have a learning license! It lets me battle, but it doesn't let me challenge the gyms, and it won't give me discounts on anything. _Real_ trainers can get discounts and freebies – stuff like free rooms and meals at pokécenters, and sometimes special edition items at half-price."

Real licenses. Real trainers. Geneva felt the weight of the wooden clipboard in her hands. Real trainers were people like Pierce or Megan. They weren't people like Geneva. She frowned at the paper, at her slanted writing. What was she doing?

"Over there," Megan pointed, unaware of Geneva's doubts, "it's for your ambitions. It's so the League knows how to deal with you during your journey. You can put stuff like, challenging the gyms, or defeating the champion, or participating in contests – even if that stuff is kind of overlooked in Kanto and Johto. There's a transfer student from Hoenn in the class above me who _still_ can't believe contests aren't an essential part of our training."

"What about traveling?" Geneva murmured, staring at the line.

"Traveling's good, too! It'll place you in a lower priority than those who have League-based ambitions when it comes to healing your pokémon, or cutting in line in gym queues, but it offers a lot more discounts on stuff like bus tickets or flying tolls." Megan leant back on the couch, staring at the roof of the pokécenter. "My aunt got a traveling-based license when she started out. It helps out if you're trying to sight-see, or if you want to go into Johto without having all the badges."

That caught Geneva's attention. Pierce had often spoken about getting all sixteen badges before heading for the League – it automatically let you challenge the Elite Four without having to go into the tournaments. Besides, Pierce was a self-entitled overachiever.

"Oh, but don't think you can just waltz in there," Megan laughed, glancing at Geneva. "There are still a minimum of badges you need to have – or a long waiting list, if you apply as a civilian looking to cross the border. For a battling-based trainer, it's all eight, but for a traveling one it's only six."

Only six. Like that wasn't something out of Geneva's reach. She bit back a sigh, wrote down _traveling_ , and signed the final line.

"Well?" the younger girl asked, inching forward with an interested smile. "How's it feel, being one step closer to being a real trainer?"

Frightening. Overwhelming.

"I'm not sure," Geneva answered. Megan's expression dropped into disappointment, but she was a good student, and quickly schooled it into a careful neutrality.

"I see," Megan said slowly, without seeing at all.

* * *

The young nurse from before had introduced himself as Shawn. He had received Geneva's sign-up sheet with another warm smile, gave it the once-over, and excused himself to go post it up.

"The exam will take a few days to arrive, so feel free to peruse the encyclopedic computer we have over by the corner while you wait," he'd said, clipboard in his hands. "We can also dispense mock-up exams whenever you want – the oldest ones are in the dossiers on that shelf there."

He had given them back their pokémon before leaving, and Megan had risen to her feet with a determined look. Geneva slipped her gastly's pokéball into her pocket, and zipped the pocket shut.

"Okay! I'm all ready to go!" the younger girl proclaimed, attracting a few looks from the trainers next to the TV. She turned to Geneva with a smile, hands on hips. "After my noctowl-watching, I'm going to head home, but I'm still meaning to catch that abra, and I could really use your help. What do you say?"

Was there any way Geneva could turn her down? Megan had been kind enough to personally see Geneva to the pokécenter, and had given her a tour of route eight. Of course Geneva would help in any way she could.

"Okay," she replied softly, and attempted a smile. Megan frowned in confusion.

"Uhh, it's okay if you don't want to. It would really help, but if you need to do other stuff—"

"Um, no," Geneva cut in, embarrassed. Why did she even bother to smile anymore? Pierce was the only one who could draw grins out of her without people looking weirded out. "I'd – I'd like to help. I can learn more, too."

Megan cocked her head, but then grinned.

"Okay! Thanks in advance! I'll have classes in the morning, so feel free to tour the city while you wait. Can we meet up here during lunch hour? Noon, maybe? I don't have a pokégear, so I can't call you."

"It's okay," Geneva assured, "I don't have one, either. I'll be here."

"Great! I'll see you at noon, Geneva!" Megan beamed, and waved as she made her way across the pokécenter. The doors slid open – Geneva really needed to get used to that – and then slid closed, after the girl had walked into the darkened city.

Geneva sighed, leaning back on the couch's fluffy pillows. The swell of her gastly's pokéball was too obvious in her pocket – she'd forgotten to minimize it. Zipping the pocket open, she let the ball roll into the palm of her hand, and then turned the button in order to minimize it.

The ball still felt oddly light and cool. Were they all like this, or was it just because gastly were cold and weightless? Geneva didn't know. She risked a glance at the old computer in the corner, then at the lounging trainers, and decided to check out the encyclopedia.

It was more than obvious the pokédex had deemed such things obsolete – the computer was old, and, despite the center being quite clean for a city like Saffron, had a small layer of dust across its heavy-looking screen. Geneva resisted the urge to blow on it, and moved the mouse – another sign of its age. Even the stocking PCs had foregone the mouse and gone full keyboard, nowadays.

The screen faded into a blue color, and a sentence blinked into the background: _Welcome, TRAINER, to the ENCYCLOPEDIA OF POKÉMON [V.01]._ Geneva clicked again. The screen split into partitions: _SEARCH FOR POKÉMON – TYPES' LIST – ITEMS' LIST – ID DATABASE – MOCK EXAMS._

Geneva stared, and then moved the cursor towards the search button.

* * *

 **GUTTUSO** (Italian): From a Sicilian nickname _guttusu_ meaning "sad person".

* * *

 **A/N:** this chapter's song is "work (ft. drake)", by rihanna.

the action picks up! here we can see what it's like for a common, bubbly, sweet pkmn trainer to speak with a girl who has Issues.

gastly is level 17 because that's the level they are if you catch them in lavender tower.

in my headcanon, the vital information of a pokémon is translated into data for the pokédex to read, which explains the HP bars and the PP we can see as the player. like humans, each pokémon has their own DNA, and their own differences – the IVs, which translate into the stats (attack, defense, wtc). their unique genetic code is also how a pokéball knows which pokémon to "return" and how a pokémon is filed under a trainer's record. in any case, training and battling without a pokédex is certainly possible; it's just harder.

 **mal** : thank you for your review! i'm glad you think it's an interesting start – i hope the rest doesn't disappoint.

 **wendigo warfare** : first of all, thank you so much for putting the time to write so extensively! it brought the biggest smile to my face, so here go a few answers for your questions:

1\. geneva and pierce's relationship is definitely meant to be portrayed as toxic! you are also correct in saying pierce is _very_ selfish and ambitious (and crass), and though he isn't the gentle friend geneva wishes she had, he is still the only person who stuck with her through their shared childhoods, and that matters a lot to geneva. it's not that he is latently evil, or a self-entitled bully – he simply no longer has any fucks to give, and it translates harshly into their relationship.

2\. the gastly was recalled into her pokéball. it's only a line, but it's there :)

3\. the reasons as to why geneva was bullied will hopefully become more apparent in the future, but i can tell you now they are Really Stupid Reasons (that sadly aren't exclusive to kids). both reasons have been exacerbated by puberty and by the fact that lavender is a small town with a small circle of kids who all know each other. in the end, they aren't important to the story, other than the fact that they've defined the way geneva turned out as a person.

once again, thank you all for reading!


	3. I Used to Worry Everyday

Huh. Thanks. Didn't think you'd actually go and get me a cup, but I guess there are still decent people in the world, huh? It's kind of endearing, if you think about it. Hey, are you single? Whoa, okay, okay, I'll get to it.

I stuck around Saffron for a few days more, after that. Mush had been a dear and told me I wouldn't be able to challenge Sabrina with my current team, and I decided to take up on her advice. Now, if you knew me – as you clearly don't want to; seriously, are you single, or not? – you'd know I don't like to take advice. I'm a proud motherfucker, and if someone tells me to do something, I usually don't. Or, y'know, vice-versa. I like being a little shit like that.

But Mush was different. When you're special, you recognize— huh? Yeah, man, I think I'm special. No shame in admitting it. Like, wouldn't you? When you've accomplished all that I have, you know for sure you're a main character in the story of life. For example – just think about those two kids who went head to head on the Champion's Stage. Aren't they special? Much as I loathe to admit, those two twerps are something else. Can you imagine – beating the champion at the young age of fourteen? When I was fourteen, I was fucking _starting out_. I was leaving my hometown. Hell, it was the fact that two fourteen-year-olds got to the fuckin' pinnacle of battling that forced me to think hard about my life. Where I wanted to be, what I wanted to do – that sort of mid-life crisis. And let me tell you, it sucks to have a mid-life crisis at sixteen. I wouldn't advise it.

Hold your fucking ponyta. I'm getting to it. So, those kids. On prime time, live television, in all four main channels across the Indigo peninsula. And I was just another nameless shit watching them. It almost hurt, I'll tell you. I was on the streets when the radio blasted with the news, and I stopped by the first TV I managed to spot – it so happened to be some electronics store I can't even remember the name of. Me, and other fifteen or twenty sorry trainers, glued to the glass, watching history unfold. Watching history unfold without _me_. Fuck, that stung. Now, my life has never been sunshine and rainbows, but I managed. Pretty well, considering.

But let me tell you – that was the one of the worst times in my life. I watched unbelievable move after move – hell, I even stuck around to watch the high-def slow-mo tracks, and by that time all my suffering partners had already gone home to train harder, be better. You know, all that inspirational shitty feelings you get when you see someone do what you wish you could.

Huh. Did I lose you there? I suppose you'll never understand. Did you ever leave your home behind and go off alone into the wild, dreaming of things bigger than a shit job? Didn't think so. You'll never get it. But Mush did, and that's why I listened to her in the first place.

What do you mean, that's not an answer? Ahah, oh man, you're a riot. Listen, trainers _get_ each other. Like, uh – oh! You know those sappy specials they run on Christmas? Yeah, those. You know how there's always a rival for the main character? Yeah, that – no, dude. No. It doesn't _matter_ what their personality is like. Sure, it gets the crowd riled up when the rival is an asshole – and the guy who played Gary in the first ones still gets fan letters, how crazy is that? But it doesn't matter if they're an asshole or not. What matters is that they're a rival. Someone who gets you, someone who fucksyou over at every step, someone who's as good as you are.

A rival, plain 'n simple. And Mush was mine.

* * *

 **Chapter III:  
I Used to Worry Everyday, or Need to Stop Feeling Like My Life Is Such a Mess**

* * *

Her first night away from home had been easier than Geneva expected – that was to say, it was still incredibly hard. Just not as hard as she'd thought it would be.

She had browsed through the computer until the trainers around had gone into their rooms – she had mostly read up on the gastly evolution line: what they ate (carbon monoxide), what they were like (difficult), how to deal with them (patiently or not at all). The information wasn't outdated; every article had the date it had been written on and the author who had written it, and Geneva was glad to recognize most professors' names. Oak himself had showed up once or twice.

When the last trainer had left, she had picked up the keycard from Nurse Shawn, and had gone into her room. The bed was a bunk bed, but there was no one else in the room, and for that Geneva had been immensely thankful. After the day she'd had, she needed some time alone with her thoughts, no matter how self-destructive they could be.

The bathroom had been small, but it had been clean, and the shower had felt like heaven. It was what came after that had nearly undone her – as she'd lain into bed, staring at the wooden bedsteads from the top bunk, it had all barreled down on her. What was she _doing?_ Away from home, all alone, sharing a building with people she didn't know—

She'd had to get up and pace around, then, controlling her speeding breaths. The room wasn't wide, but she'd managed, closing and opening her hands, breathing in and out, and trying not to have a panic attack. Wasn't this what she'd wanted? _Yes,_ she answered, _but with Pierce. With Pierce_.

Eventually, the shock had worn off – she had tucked herself into bed once more, and though sleep had been late, it had come, and the sweetness of dawn had proved itself to be far more palatable than the bitterness of night.

The nurse on duty had greeted her with a smile, and had given her directions to the cafeteria, where she could have breakfast. Geneva had eaten her portion of pancakes, had drunk her glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice, and then (after nearly an hour spent gathering up her courage) had decided to scout Saffron City.

This, of course, resulted in several approaches by walking salesmen.

"N-No, thanks," Geneva muttered, quickly walking away from a young girl with dozens of pokéballs hanging off the side of her jacket. True to her word, Geneva was trying to avoid them, but Saffron was ripe with business opportunities – in the half hour she'd spent outside the pokécenter, she'd been approached four times already.

It didn't matter – she needed to figure out where Pierce was staying at, and the only way she could do that was by getting to the other pokécenters. At least no trainers had challenged her yet; she would be able to turn them down easily by explaining her situation, but Geneva didn't want to do even that.

Luckily, Saffron was surprisingly easy to navigate. Geneva found out that, when one stayed out of the smaller streets, the city's main streets connected in a square surrounding the business district. She'd already discovered where the mall was – the gigantic, glass-roofed structure wasn't easy to miss – and there were maps in most main streets, with small red circles and a helpful _you are here!_ for her to situate herself. Geneva stared at the wide glass doors of the mall, then at the rows of buildings alongside it, and took a breath.

She'd decided that it would be best for her to buy some sort of notebook – pokédexes were out of her budget, and she wouldn't have a computer to access the encyclopedic database on the road. It was better to keep track of things, after all; especially regarding battling.

Inside, it was cool, just like in Lavender's mart. The comparisons ended there – where Lavender's mart had been small and quiet, Saffron's mall was stock-full of customers, with speakers blaring the latest discount, with people handing out pamphlets and advertising the store they'd been hired by. She blanched at the sight, standing still by the potted plants, and then grasped her necklace firmly.

"Can I interest you in the newest fix-it from Silph?" a nearby young man called out, holding out a pamphlet. "Just a thousand and five hundred yen, and your pokémon will be ready for anything!"

Geneva shook her head nervously. The young man didn't push; instead, he walked over to the closest person, repeating the words. It was odd, that – people in big cities were so used to being impersonal. Geneva once again felt like a fish out of water, watching the young man hop from customer to customer without stopping to feel disappointed.

It didn't matter. She shook it off, and made her way to the escalators. The ground floor seemed as if it had been reserved for the promotional campaigns, and she was looking for something in particular.

The signs, hanging from the steel-beamed ceiling, told her where she needed to go. The higher floors were for trainers – she ignored that – and the first floor held stationery and office supplies, along with the supermarket. It seemed like an odd mix, but Geneva didn't stop to think about it. Everything was odd about Saffron, after all.

The stationery part of the mall was actually inside the supermarket, she found out soon after, and her brain clicked: it was a polite way to say where the non-trainers could do their shopping! Supermarkets usually stocked up on everything a person needed, but it seemed the upper floors were trainers-only. Geneva felt satisfied at the realization, as she walked inside the supermarket. It was wide, and the ceilings were high and well-lit, with several speakers.

"Clean-up on aisle four," the filtered voice called out. "Water type pokémon. Mops required."

Geneva looked up – the stationery was being displayed on isle four. She made her way across the squeaky-clean floor, peering into every shelf she passed by. Most of the people she passed were older women, being followed by small pokémon – from uppity eevee to purring meowth – though there were several girls and boys who were seemingly stocking up on canned food. Trainers, then, she figured, as she cut the corner into aisle four.

"No, man," a supermarket attendant was saying into his walkie-talkie, "I just wanna ask why _I'm_ the one who always gets to mop up after water types. I don't see Josh cleaning up slowpoke piss every time a—" then he noticed her, and went very red, "uh, I'll – I'll call you later."

Geneva stared at him, without knowing how to react.

"I'm very sorry for my temporary lack of professionalism, miss," he said, in a tone that told Geneva he'd practiced it often. "Please enjoy our varied display of items; the Saffron mall thanks you for your continued preference."

She blinked, then offered a slow nod. The young man hurriedly turned away, mopping the puddle at his feet like mad. She gingerly went around the water, and tried her best to focus on the stationery. As of now, money wasn't an issue, but she'd still have to pay for her license, and she would need to catch another pokémon if she wanted to go out on the routes and feel safe. _At least_ , she figured, staring down at her zipped-up pocket, _I won't have to buy a starter._ That would allow for her to buy some more supplies.

The notebooks were easy to find – their colorful colors attracted the eye like a sly skitty in a cuteness contest. Geneva ignored those, and crouched down by the lower shelves. The cheapest ones would suit her fine, but she wanted one with a binder. The black ones were the ones with the lowest price; she picked up two and made off to the next aisle, ignoring the still blushing attendant.

The health and hygiene aisle broke into two – the shampoos and bath gels on one side, and the other miscellaneous things on another. Geneva hastily grabbed at the cheapest scrunchie pack, and quickly moved towards the check-out area.

Once she found herself outside, she heaved a sigh of relief. Busy streets or not, they still beat the stress of the mall, even if not by far. The digital clock hanging beneath the closest streetlight read ten and seventeen, so Geneva adjusted her bag and walked off into the bustle. Megan would be expecting her, so she didn't have that much time to search for Pierce.

The street signs at the end of the street pointed towards the mall, the police station, and the closest pokécenter. Judging by the sun, this one was towards the east, therefore not the one Geneva had come from, and she felt glad as she picked up the pace.

It was easier to ignore the peddling people now, though she always made an effort to apologize for not buying. Like the pamphlet-bearing young man at the mall, they didn't seem too bothered by her dismissal – they always turned to the next person behind her and spoke to them instead. This confused her still, but Geneva tried to tell herself it was just different here. And it was.

Lavender didn't have salesmen, unless they'd rented a stall in the market. Lavender didn't have malls, just two tiny pokémarts. Lavender didn't have the smell of machines and exhaust pipes hovering in its streets, just the faraway smell of pyre smoke and wheat grass.

The pokécenter's red roof stuck out from between the glass surface of the buildings around it. Geneva hardly paid mind to the sliding doors as she entered, directed straight to the counter.

"Good morning," the nurse on duty said. Unlike Shawn, she was an old woman with a distant expression. "How can I help?"

Geneva swallowed her nervousness, and made an effort to speak aloud.

"G-Good morning. I was wondering if a trainer named Pierce was staying here. Um, Pierce Outerridge?"

The nurse frowned at her, looking away from the computer screen.

"We don't normally give out that kind of information. Might I know who's asking? What's your trainer ID?"

Geneva flinched, hands darting up to fiddle with her necklace.

"I, um, I don't have one yet. I'm staying at the gym pokécenter. I-I requested my trainer exam there."

The nurse's expression went even sourer, somehow. But she tapped a few keys on her keyboard, and skimmed whatever information showed up there.

"The Geneva girl?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Yes," Geneva replied automatically, the cut of the cross digging into her palm. "That's me."

"There are no trainers by the name of Pierce Outerridge in this pokécenter; in fact, there isn't a single Pierce Outerridge in any of the city's pokécenters." She jabbed a finger into a key, and then turned to Geneva once more. "Now, will that be all?"

Geneva found herself facing the street again, heart beating in her chest. There was a faded memory of a nod, and turning back on her heel, but the woman's expression was the clearest thing on her mind. She moved into the shade of the closest building and placed a hand against the brick, trying to catch her breath. Her sweaty hands dropped the cross. There was a white mark inside her fingers.

So Pierce wasn't in any of the pokécenters? Geneva suddenly wanted to cry. He'd told her he was coming to Saffron, and Geneva was sure he hadn't lied; not because Pierce wasn't capable of it, but because Saffron was the closest gym-city to Lavender. She exhaled, and patted down her hair, glancing at the street. A businessman and a trainer were looking at her, concern written on their faces – the businessman had even lowered his pokégear from his ear.

Geneva felt the heat spread across her face, and ducked it away, diving into the moving crowd. She looked up only to check the street signs, making her way towards the gym pokécenter, and walked into her room before anyone else could talk to her.

The trip around Saffron had taken her more than an hour and a half, but the trip back to the pokécenter had felt like minutes. Her heart was still hammering in her chest, and Geneva was sweating – she peeled off her jacket and set it on her bed, staring at the bulge in her left pocket.

 _Get yourself together_ , it seemed to say. _Get yourself together._

* * *

Megan showed up not a minute after noon. Geneva had been sitting by the TV, checking up on the news. The nurse on duty had asked if she wanted lunch, and Geneva had accepted one of the take-out meals. It even brought disposable cutlery along.

"Good morning!" Megan greeted, beaming at her. "Or should I say good afternoon?"

Geneva didn't really care. The sight of a familiar face was enough to light a fire underneath her skin; Geneva smiled in relief, and got up from the couch, gathering her bag and her notebook – she had been filling it up with all information regarding gastly she'd considered important. She'd left a few pages open with tidbits about growlithe and vulpix, since Megan had spoken so much about them, but, other than that, her notebook was practically blank.

"Oh!" Megan exclaimed, eyes wide and settling on her mouth.

"Did you forget something?" Geneva asked, looping her arms through the handles of her backpack and flipping her hair free.

Megan blushed, and shook her head quickly, fidgeting with her hair.

"N-No, sorry," the younger girl said, eyes on the plush surface of the couch. "Are you ready to go? I've stocked up on pokéballs and I have a good feeling about finally getting that abra."

Geneva hadn't had a good feeling about anything since the old nurse had told her Pierce wasn't in town, but she still managed a nod. Megan offered a wobbly smile, and waved goodbye at the nurse on duty before heading out the sliding doors.

The trek to the route was quick. Perhaps it was because Megan chatted all the way there, and Geneva didn't have to focus on all the people around her, or perhaps it was because the younger girl took her mind off Pierce's mysterious circumstances. In any case, the return to a place Geneva already knew to be calm and sunny lifted her spirits somewhat.

"Usually," Megan said, walking ahead, "I found most abra over there – it's not on the main stretch of tall grass, but it was where I ran into all the abra I tried to capture. I took it to mean the growlithe and the vulpix drove them away, but I'm not sure. My teacher hasn't gotten to this route yet," she added, smiling sheepishly.

"How did your night class go?" Geneva asked, suddenly remembering.

"Ugh, don't even ask," Megan replied, her excited expression replaced by a revolted one. "Bevin fell asleep in the middle of it without anyone noticing and snored so loud the noctowl actually _fled_. I'd never seen Mr. Graham that angry!"

Geneva nodded, not knowing what to say in return. Megan didn't seem to mind; she chattered about the wildlife some more, until they reached a dark corner of the field. The shadows of the stone pines were thick, blocking out most of the impressive sunlight; Geneva zipped up her jacket as she walked into the shade.

"Okay, so," Megan began excitedly, "they usually come out of that tree cluster if you leave food around." She laughed. "That was actually how I found out – I was having one of my mom's sandwiches and one abra teleported right next to me! I figured it _had_ to be the smell of food."

She produced one sandwich from her bag, looking very satisfied with herself. Geneva belatedly realized Mother hadn't arranged any sandwiches, and that Geneva had forgotten to call her.

"Do you want one? They're PB n' jay," Megan said. She'd likely noticed the way Geneva was staring at the tin foil wrapped bread.

She shook her head, feeling embarrassed, and turned to look at the cluster of trees. Megan unwrapped the sandwich and waved it around, looking a little silly.

"Okay, so, here's what I'd like you to do," the younger girl said, turning to the pines. "When an abra pops out, I'd like you to use mean look – err, that is, I'd like your gastly to use mean look. That way I can take my sweet time and I'll finally get my own abra!"

Geneva nodded slowly, and fetched the gastly's pokéball from her jacket, letting it drop at her feet. The gastly had been well-behaved, yesterday, and Geneva wanted to know if she would attack Geneva again. She hadn't had the guts to let the gastly out by herself, but now that Megan was here …

The cloud seeped coolly into Geneva's clothes – she unconsciously gripped at her arms – but the cluster only offered a wide smile, recalling the gas into a more condensed form.

"Good afternoon," Geneva murmured tentatively. The gastly's grin went wider, and she licked at her lips. A good sign?

"Go, Bolty!" Megan said, throwing a pokéball as well.

The pikachu from the previous day materialized in a flash of white, and then ran off to greet the young girl, pressing up its side against her leg and crooning softly. The gastly snickered at the sight: a wheezy, unpleasant, and mocking sound. Megan threw her a glance with narrowed eyes, but chose to ignore it.

"Okay, Bolty," she said, kneeling down to peer into Bolty's eyes, "just like we practiced before." Then she cocked her head. "Uh, only this time it's gonna be way easier, I guess."

Geneva had her doubts, but they proved to be unfounded – it wasn't long until an abra popped into their sights with a wispy noise. Geneva's gastly, seemingly wishing to prove her strength, opened her eyes wide and made a horrifying face towards the abra: eyes rolling back whitely and sharp teeth gleaming in the sun.

The effect was instantaneous. The abra shuddered violently, and its force field vanished – the yellow pokémon hit the floor with a cry, unable to gather its usual teleportation abilities.

"Yes!" Megan cried out, grinning wildly, and motioned for her pikachu to strike. Geneva stood by and watched, the cool atmosphere of her ghastly lingering above her right shoulder.

In the end, it was all very anticlimactic. The abra was still young, as noted by Megan's pokédex, and hadn't stood a chance against a trained pokémon and a snaring move. It took Bolty a single thundershock and a thunderwave to allow Megan to catch it. When the ball clicked shut, glimmering even in the shade, Geneva almost felt … disappointed. That was it?

Megan, however, was beside herself. She ran across the clearing to hug her worn-out pikachu and to pick up the pokéball of her new abra, and then turned to laugh towards Geneva.

"That was great! Thank you sooo much! I can't wait to see Bevin's face when I show him my new pokémon!" the girl cried, spinning around with Bolty in her arms. The pikachu seemed to have been used to being treated like such; when she set it down again, it didn't even waver. "Do you want to catch one, too? You should fill up your belt a little more."

"I don't have a belt," Geneva replied, and Megan rolled her eyes.

"It's an expression, silly. Until you have all six pokémon, you'll be hearing that a lot – belt or no belt." Then the girl's eyes dropped to Geneva's pockets, narrowing in thought. "You should consider buying one, though. Then again, I guess zipper pockets work just as well?"

The girl mumbled to herself while Geneva glanced up at the gastly. Her eyes had never left the abra, and Geneva couldn't remember seeing her _blink_. Was it the effect of mean look, was gastly just really interested in fighting? Maybe the move wore off if the look was interrupted. Or maybe ghost types were just eerie like that.

"Okay," Geneva said, much to Megan's surprise. "If you think I should, let's try to catch an abra."

Gastly made a breathy noise, cloud swirling around; Geneva took it to mean she was excited about battling another pokémon. Did the gastly in the tower ever battle? Or had her first battle been yesterday? The grin had disappeared from the cluster, replaced by an expression of seriousness that fit wrongly. Gastly with closed mouths were odd to watch.

"I know you can do it!" Megan exclaimed, clipping her abra's pokéball on her belt. It was her sixth pokéball – a full belt.

Geneva nodded, and stared down at the discarded peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Some dirt had gotten on it. However, that didn't stop the next abra from popping over, head swinging from side to side as if searching. Geneva felt a trill of nervousness, but she glanced up at her gastly, ready to ask for a mean look.

And yet, the air around them went cold, and the trees' shade – previously only chilly – iced over until Geneva's breath fogged over in front of her mouth. Megan startled, head swiveling to stare at the gastly as the abra attempted to jump away. Its terrified cries echoed inside the dark globe, eyes stuck on something that Geneva couldn't see. Gastly laughed, and hovered towards it, until the abra channeled its energy and sped backwards into a tree. The soft fur on its head matted with blood as the abra hit the trunk of the closest pine tree – its eyes rolled back, showing a light grey that Geneva had seen many times in the mirror. Never on an abra's sockets.

The air grew warm the very next second, the sunlight filtering from between the thick pine needles, but Geneva still felt cold. Her gastly laughed, hovering around the abra's prone form, and then turned to stare at Geneva. She was proud of herself, Geneva realized, hands tight around her forearms.

"What the heck was that!?" Megan screamed, still pale. "You weren't supposed to make it faint!"

The gastly stuck out its tongue and blew a raspberry.

"We can try again," Geneva said, trying not to let her teeth chatter. "Just don't use night shade, this time. Okay?"

Her gastly gave no indication of hearing her, but she floated away from the half-eaten sandwich. Geneva brought out her first notebook, flipping the first few pages, and read through the list she'd copied off the pokécenter's computer. If her gastly was evaluated at the seventeenth level, there was only one move Geneva hadn't yet seen her use – hypnosis. With a mean look, the combination would probably be enough for her to catch an abra. Night shade was clearly too powerful to use.

She breathed in, trying to steel herself.

"Use hypnosis and mean look instead, okay?" she said, and gastly rotated in itself, turning to look at the tree cluster. Once again, she didn't seem interested in Geneva's request, but Geneva hoped her gastly wouldn't …

Geneva's eyes were drawn to the fainted abra – the tip of its tail stuck out from the grass, and the stain of red was barely recognizable from the dark brown of the wood, but she still felt queasy. Megan likely did too, her lips thin and her face pale as she stared.

There was a whoosh and a flash of yellow. Geneva moved her eyes away from the fainted pokémon. The abra who'd shown seemed to have been expecting something other than food; its eyes were alert, darting here and there until they found the gastly. Had the last abra warned the rest of their mates? It was common for psychic types to communicate among themselves, after all.

Gastly advanced, tongue lolling out.

"Hypnosis," Geneva read, fingers tight around her notebook, and her gastly drew up the darkness again. The abra squealed, eyes wide, and there was another windy sound as it up and vanished. The dark fog fell into nothing, returning to gastly's cloud.

"Wh—you didn't even use mean look, this time!" Megan shouted, the color returning to her face. Bolty, at her side, had its black eyes set on gastly. It seemed ready to defend its trainer, and Geneva felt a dab of jealousy. "Listen to your trainer!"

Her gastly squawked out a laugh, and Geneva was usually a patient person, but she recalled it without a sound, unwilling to listen to that sound for a second longer. Megan crossed her arms, frowning.

"It's okay," Geneva assured, sliding her gastly's pokéball in her pocket. "There's probably a reason for all this."

"Yes, there is. And it's misbehavior, pure and simple. It's the first thing we learn in school," Megan retorted, glaring at the bulge in Geneva's pocket. "You should really consider trading that thing."

The ball, inside the pocket, gave a small twitch. Geneva startled, one hand pulling it out quickly. The red surface offered no answer, apart from another twitch.

"But she's my starter," she murmured, the pads of her fingers pressing into the plastic. The ball stopped twitching at the contact. Or perhaps at the words? "Can pokémon hear you when they're inside their balls?"

Megan blinked at the sudden question.

"I … I suppose so," she answered, looking unsure. "I usually congratulate my pokémon when I return them." She blinked. "Huh. I've never really thought about that."

"I won't trade you," Geneva told the pokéball. Megan had a perplexed expression on her face. "But you have to listen. Or tell me what you want, I guess."

And she slid the pokéball into her pocket again, turning to Megan.

"Do you want to go back to the pokécenter—"

The kadabra's confusion wave came out of nowhere. Geneva felt a pressure across the front of her body, and then the floor was swept from under her feet – she saw the sky and slammed against the dirt with a wince. Megan, by her side, gave out a sharp cry of alarm, trying to get up without success. Her hands darted out as if to help her, but they moved in the direction of the sky instead of the grass.

Bolty's cheeks crackled with light, and the resultant thundershock was the biggest one yet, but it missed. The kadabra lifted its spoon, and the pressure vanished. Geneva struggled to catch her breath, feeling nauseated, and somehow sat up. Her sight was woozy and doubled, but she tried getting Megan to sit up as well.

"Unh," the younger girl groaned, covering her eyes from the sunlight. They were still in the shade, but that didn't seem to matter.

"Are you okay?" Geneva asked, above the sound of electricity. Megan nodded, albeit weakly, and closed her eyes tightly. Geneva turned to see the battle.

Bolty tackled the kadabra, ears flattened as its head slammed into the psychic's side. The kadabra cried out, and swung its spoon across the pikachu's face with kinetic power. Bolty winced, but managed to stay upright upon hitting the ground.

"T-Thunder wave," Megan mumbled, still holding her head. Bolty's ears twitched at the sound of her voice, and its tail stiffened in the air. The bolt hit its target; the kadabra groaned and twitched, the spoon making a choppy return to its hand. "Did it hit?"

"Yes," Geneva replied, heart hammering in her chest, pokéball twitching in her pocket. There was a brief doubt – brief, but deep – and Geneva released her gastly. "Go on."

And her gastly went, sparing no second look towards her trainer.

The icy feeling wasn't as intense, this time; the battle was farther away from the two girls than before. The kadabra's eyes went wide, the tufts of hair rolling at the tips, and the gastly laughed, directing its cloud to wrap around the psychic.

A breeze rolled past. The kadabra disappeared, and materialized behind gastly. A futile move – her gastly simply turned around and licked it hard enough that the kadabra's eyes rolled in their sockets. Unlike the abra's, there was no difference in color. It was all white.

"Please, please, tell me you've got this," Megan managed, blinking at the floor.

"I think so," Geneva said again, eyes on the kadabra's flinching hands. The spoon went flying, and gastly took it right in her core. Eyes wide, smile frozen, and Geneva was _terrified_. "Night shade again," she stammered, heart beating inside her chest. "Please."

Gastly blinked – one eye at a time – and attempted to regain her bearings. Bolty took over, striking down the kadabra with another thundershock. The psychic cried out, falling from his invisible pedestal, and landed on one knee.

Geneva searched her pockets for a free pokéball, but her gastly moved before her hand could react. The dark globe shut both Bolty and the kadabra inside it, faster than before, and there were two cries of fear.

"Bolty?" Megan asked fearfully, narrowing her eyes – the confusion waves had hit her hard, apparently.

The darkness dissipated into her gastly's body. Bolty looked stricken, but it was alive and well. Beneath the poisonous gas, the kadabra was lying on the ground, its spoon abandoned. But her gastly was _fine_ , and Geneva didn't care that she hadn't caught anything. It didn't matter.

"Good," Geneva whispered, and gastly laughed, her grin animalistic. She returned her with shaking hands, and helped Megan to her feet. The younger girl was still confused, and couldn't see very well, but they needed to leave the area before another kadabra decided to avenge its kin.

Bolty disappeared in a flash of white, and Megan grabbed Geneva's arm as they walked off into the sun. It had been a disappointing day – a frightening day – but Geneva felt oddly satisfied.

* * *

"So … you really won't trade her off?" Megan asked hopefully, from behind her cup of tea.

Upon returning to the pokécenter, Megan had recounted their exciting afternoon to whoever was in earshot. Shawn had taken pity on them and given each of them a cup of tea. Megan had also asked for scones (Shawn had rolled his eyes, but had caved in), but Geneva had simply taken out the container she'd been given in the morning. She had been raised not to waste anything.

In her pocket, the pokéball twitched against her father's knife.

"No," Geneva said simply, taking a bite out of her roasted pidgey. She had never really enjoyed eating birds – all the bones made her queasy, and the breast meat, the part she liked best, was usually too dry – but she wouldn't complain. She was starving, after all, and the potatoes were moist enough to balance it out.

"I really don't get you," Megan said, blowing on her tea. It stung a little, but Geneva was used to hearing such things. She only chewed. "There's even a nice market for gastly in Saffron – with Sabrina's gym in town, you could probably find a trainer willing to take her off your hands in no time."

Geneva shrugged, and swallowed. She didn't want to be optimistic – that had always ended in tears – but she didn't want to give up so soon. Gastly had been a present from her mother; Geneva couldn't just give her away.

"I'll find a way to make it work," she promised, and brought a potato to her mouth. Megan frowned. "We haven't known each other for long, and she was probably a wild pokémon. Maybe she just isn't used to being trained."

Megan looked doubtful, but didn't add to the subject. She sipped at her mint coffee instead, and grinned.

"Have you decided what you're going to call her, then? Some professors argue that nicknames deepen the bond between a trainer and a pokémon." She cocked her head. "It hasn't been proven, but I like to think they're right."

Geneva stared down at her pocket.

"Anima," she murmured. _Anima_ , and something inside her sparked. Anima. The soul, her third-grade teacher had taught them.

"Sounds cool!" Megan said, excited once more. "Not as cool as Bolty," she hurried to say, looking smug, "but still pretty cool."

Geneva nodded, feeling a little amused, and took another bite. In her pocket, the pokéball was still.

* * *

After Megan had bid her goodbyes, promising to return the next morning, Geneva returned to the computer. Most trainers seemed to overlook it completely – then again, most already had a license, and nearly all their jackets hung with the rectangular weight of a pokédex. Geneva wondered how long it would take her to buy one, and then pushed the thought away. She was still starting out, after all; as long as she could write down the things she needed to know, there would be no need for a pokédex.

She filled out a few exams, passed them all with varied success (her knowledge of battling tactics was shaky at best), and then browsed through the habitats' list.

When she got her license, there would be nothing else she would need from Saffron. Sabrina was famous for being an extremely proficient trainer, and Geneva wasn't stupid or hopeful enough to think Anima would manage to win against the psychic gym leader. She hadn't remembered it when the kadabra had attacked, but Anima was half-poison, and poison crumbled easily when facing psychics.

The abra capture failure notwithstanding, Geneva still wanted to catch another pokémon. And Saffron had four routes connecting to it – there would be no better city to stay at while searching for pokémon – as well as Megan's comforting presence. The younger girl seemed to like Geneva enough to help her, and it wasn't as if Geneva hadn't helped her too.

Route seven seemed the most promising – the fire type growlithe and vulpix were still present, and there was no risk of running into any other kadabra. Geneva wasn't opposed to catching a spearow or a meowth, either, but raticate and houndour were scary pokémon; she would have to be careful.

She exited the search function, and looked around the foyer. The nurse Shawn had mentioned before had taken over his shift a little while ago, and the trainers that Geneva had seen the night before had likely moved on to the next city. She got up from the chair and stretched, relishing the popping sounding from her shoulders.

Dinner had already been served – rattata loin with white rice – and Geneva had no reason to linger about anymore, other than the distinct lack of sleep she was feeling. It would be better for her to turn in, though, and so she did, duly ignoring the payphones built into the walls.

Had Mother even cared that she'd forgotten to call? Or was her anger building with every hour that Geneva refused to pick up the receiver? It wasn't as if Mother could call, after all. Geneva sighed, feeling wretched, and slid her keycard across the sensor.

Inside her room, the air was warm – the air conditioner was on – and it smelled of cleaning products. Realizing someone had come in to clean, Geneva was suddenly was glad she'd made her bed. It was mortifying to think the pokécenter's staff would think she was a slob.

She set her gastly's pokéball on her nightstand, a little regretful that she couldn't curl up with her starter, and changed into her pajamas. The sheets were soft against the patch of skin between sock and pants, and Geneva stared at the bedsteads of the upper bunk again.

It still wasn't easy to sleep.

But it wasn't as hard as before.

* * *

 **NIGHT SHADE** (XY/ORAS): The user makes the target see a frightening mirage. It inflicts damage equal to the user's level.

 **CONFUSION** (XY/ORAS): The target is hit by a weak telekinetic force. This may also confuse the target.

* * *

 **A/N:** this chapter's song is "money", by mystery skulls.

if you were wondering, geneva has a few mental disorders. i'll say upfront codependency is one of them, but i'll leave the rest of them to you.

thank you for your reviews!


	4. My Method Is Uncertain

Huh? Geneva? I eventually came across her when I was leaving Saffron. She'd been staying at a pokécenter, and she was waiting for her exam to arrive like some newbie trainer.

Aha, no, not at all. You see, I'd bribed the city hall officials in charge of mailing priorities – mine only took a day to arrive, thank _you_ mister yen – but I'll bet the thought didn't even cross her mind. Geneva was such a goody-goody. I mean, she was staying at a pokécenter, for gods' sakes. _I_ had to slum at a ratty inn in order not to rouse suspicion over a too-quick trainer exam – nurses are less stupid than you'd think, considering they linger around chansey all day long.

She asked me how I'd been, she asked if I could just wait for her to take the exam, blah blah. As you already know, I didn't wait around for her. Listen, it's not that I didn't _want_ her to come along, it's just that I didn't want to waste my time waiting for anyone. Geneva was a nice sidekick to have, just … not if you were meaning to break record times.

See, the thing you've got to understand about Geneva is that she was – she was utterly purposeless. Girl was the least ambitious person I've _ever_ come across. And I've met a lot of worthless trainers, but Geneva takes the cake without trying – heh, get it? Because she doesn't ever t—okay, jeez. The only thing I can recall she ever truly wanted was to travel – well, that and me, but I'm guessing you've reached that conclusion already. … Love? Uh, sure, you can call it that. I'm leaning more on 'odd fixation', but hey, it's not like either description bothers me. … Did _I_ —? Whoa, man, ease up. Geneva was one of the few people in Lavender who weren't a complete waste of time – I'll admit to that, at least. But there comes a time in a man's life where you just gotta move on.

You know when you – like, imagine you have a bug pokémon, and it evolves really fast, and it's super cool and wins all the battles. You're with me? But time goes by, and your bug just starts losing. It happens a little, then a lot, and then it doesn't perform the way you want it to, anymore. So you box it or release it and you never think of it again.

That was Geneva, for me. At least, that's what I—

What? … Fucking gods, can we—like, honestly? Can't you just – for one minute? Just shut up? This is the shit you've been waiting for, isn't it? Your precious Geneva, all bare and laid out for your viewing pleasure. … What do you mean I'm biased? Well, hell yeah I am. Once again, what did you expect? You know what went on between us, don't you? The basics, at least. Then again, most of the peninsula knows it, so. Maybe you should call up Mush and ask her to come over and add to your weird fixation. I bet you and her would—

… Whaddya mean she declined? Are you serious? I'm your second choice? Are you _fucking_ kidding me? Wow. _Wow_. You know what, I take it back: you're not clever at all. You're a gods' damned simpleton who doesn't know when to keep their mouth shut.

Congratu-fucking-lations; we're done for today.

* * *

 **Chapter IV:  
My Method Is Uncertain, or It's a Mess, But It's Working**

* * *

"Okay," Megan said, practically trembling with excitement, "what you need to know about capturing a growlithe is that most of them _want_ to be captured. They're very friendly! Ever since the police force began releasing their partner's offspring, the growlithe have been far tamer than they used to be."

Geneva nodded, eyes on the fence. The white color didn't seem particularly calming.

She experimentally pressed against the closest board; it didn't budge. Inside the fence, the cotton lavender shrubs were in bloom. She recalled the low-level channelers harvested the flowers – they set them out to dry when the weather was fair, and made potpourri to set beside the new graves.

It was weird to think about. Lavender was still so close, but it felt so far away.

"I'll be here if you need me," Megan reminded Geneva, smiling brightly.

Geneva focused on her goal again, dismissing the memories of yellow flowers hanging in the drying racks.

"Bolty can paralyze anything that isn't ground type, and there shouldn't be any of those around."

Surprisingly, that helped. Geneva nodded, and slipped her left foot in between the boards. She swung the right over the fence, and hopped over into the tall grass. It was an odd feeling – the flowers were as tall as her knees, and with every step Geneva gave there was a rustling sound and an unpleasant scent.

She let out her gastly at the same time Megan released her pikachu. Bolty squeaked and poked its snout through the fence, sniffing at the air. Its presence was calming, despite the revolted expression on its face.

Anima hovered closer to Geneva's shoulder, bringing along the customary chill of her cloud. She was keeping it quite contained, thankfully.

Geneva strained to see over the field of grass without disturbing the plants around her – she didn't want the smell to permeate her clothes.

Anima made a breezy noise and moved out, hovering across the plain. She peered down into the cotton lavenders, and then turned around to stare at Geneva. Her tongue slipped out, glistening in the sun, and a terrified growlithe jumped out of the flowers.

"That was fast!" Megan cried out, hands against the fence. "Good job, Anima!"

The gastly snickered, following after the growlithe. The fire type opened its mouth to spit fire – the few small embers were easy to avoid, though gastly's cloud went up in smoke where the fire hit, and became a little more transparent.

"Lick," Geneva said, trying to steer clear from the battling pokémon. Her backpack pressed against the wood of the fence and she stiffened, surprised. Megan set a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, but her eyes were on the fight.

Anima descended upon the growlithe, tongue slapping across the dog's snout. Growlithe blinked in surprise, but the paralysis didn't manifest, and its jaws opened easily. Anima's eyes widened, and she hurriedly hovered away, narrowly avoiding being bitten.

"That's a dark type move! Don't let get Anima get hit!" Megan cried out, staring at her pokédex. Geneva tried to memorize it – she would have to write it down later.

"Stay out of reach, Anima," Geneva said, hand tight around a pokéball. "Use hypnosis instead."

Anima cackled, and directed half of its cloud towards the growlithe's head. It enveloped it cleanly, forming a perfect ball.

The fire type was alarmed, ears high and twitching. Inside its mouth, a flame was burning.

The poison was too fast to act, however, and the ember attack dissipated as the growlithe's eyes drooped. It glanced at Geneva through the crack in its eyes, and eventually laid down slowly, setting its head on its crossed paws. The gas around its head dissipated, and slithered back to the cloud where it had come from like a snake.

"Night shade," Geneva called out, and the dark globe burst around the sleeping growlithe. It happened faster than usual – perhaps because there was no point in setting up a mirage. The growlithe _was_ asleep, after all.

She glanced at Megan.

"Should I throw the ball now?"

The younger girl looked down at her pokédex, and beamed.

"Yeah! Since he's asleep, it should be a piece of cake!" she said, and shook Geneva's shoulder excitedly.

Geneva nodded, and stared at the slumbering growlithe. It was snoring, she noticed, and almost smiled.

Her left hand wrapped around the pokéball, and Geneva threw.

The arc was less than perfect. For a second, Geneva thought she'd just wasted a perfectly good pokéball. It hit the pedicel of the closest flower instead of the growlithe, but the flash of light was near enough to pull the fire type into the ball.

"Good one!" Megan shouted, from behind the fence. Anima seemed excited, as well, if the grin on the center of the cloud was any indication.

The ball clicked after a beat, glinting amongst the bent flowers, and Geneva's heart felt too large inside her chest. Her first caught pokémon. Her _first_ caught pokémon.

"Congratulations!" the younger girl shouted again, practically jumping in place.

Geneva grinned as she gingerly walked across the shrubs (not even minding the smell!), and knelt down to pick the pokéball. Unlike Anima's, it was warm to the touch, and weighed on the palm of her hand. Geneva slipped it in her left pocket, and sighed in relief.

It had been so easy! Perhaps she wasn't as useless as a trainer as she'd thought.

Geneva wiped her face clean of joy, though not her insides, and made her way towards the fence. The chipped paint broke off when her jeans brushed against it, but she hardly cared.

"How do you feel?" Megan asked, beaming up at her. "When I caught my first pokémon, I was so happy I thought I'd explode!"

Geneva sympathized. She offered a nod, patting the bulge in her pocket. Megan frowned at her, but then shrugged.

"Do you have a name in mind?"

"I do," Geneva replied. She hadn't been able to sleep right away, and the thought of a new addition to the team had been inspiring. "Ardens."

Megan's face twisted in confusion once more. Geneva felt her ears go hot.

"We um, we learned Latin in elementary. It's the language high channelers read their prayers in."

It had been one of her favorite things to learn, and the only thing she'd been better at than Pierce. _Of course the cadaver would speak dead people language,_ Joshua would say, with every high grade she received – and even then, the love for the language hadn't abated.

"Wow! That's super neat! All we have are French lessons once a week, and I'm pretty sure Mr. Bisset isn't even from Kalos," she lamented, frowning.

Geneva frowned back, unsure of how to reply.

"Anyway, we've got to celebrate! It isn't every day that we manage to catch a pokémon so easily. Do you like sundaes?"

"I've never had one," Geneva muttered.

Not even the kadabra's confusion attack from the day before had managed to give Megan such a horrified expression.

* * *

Geneva's pants smelled of cotton lavender, and she attracted a few odd looks on the way to the ice cream parlor, but the vanilla melted in her mouth in the most delightful way. Megan had beamed at her while Geneva ate, unable to smother her sounds of delight.

Ardens and Anima had been left at the pokécenter – Shawn had congratulated Geneva on her capture – and, in the meantime, Megan dragged Geneva out to the mall in order to buy more pokéballs. Geneva still had three to use, but the thought of being accompanied into the busy building was a seductive one, and she caved.

"You should really stock up on trainer materials when you're in large cities," Megan was saying, climbing off the escalator. "They're much cheaper when they're on high demand."

She was right, as usual. In Lavender, the prices for pokéballs were almost twice what they were in Saffron, and the health ointments could be bought in packs, instead of separately. There were more kinds of medicine here, too – the cans with colored tags were more effective on specific types: the purple tags meant the regenerative had been laced with carbon monoxide – a favorite of the gastly evolution line; the light blue tags meant there were more minerals in the recipe, while the dark blue contained salt and crushed plankton; and so on.

Geneva stocked up on normal, cheap regeneratives and full heals – they were marked at half-price –, and Megan's chattering helped with distracting Geneva from the large crowds.

Back at the pokécenter, Geneva received her pokémon from a chipper Shawn, and, at Megan's behest, decided to release it in the yard behind the pokécenter. It wasn't a very spacious area, unlike the one in Lavender, but then again Saffron lacked the space a small town had. There were fire-proof targets hanging from the metal fence, breakable rocks piled by a corner, and a small pond stock-full of moss. Lavender's pokécenter yard, while a much larger area, had only had tall grass and scorch marked trees to offer.

Ardens thankfully hadn't behaved like Anima, upon being released for the first time. Despite Megan's constant assurance, Geneva had still been terrified. But the growlithe, upon being released, had only barked and wagged its tail.

"See? What did I tell you?" Megan asked, crouching down to scratch at Ardens' ear. The growlithe's tail wagged even faster, and Geneva couldn't help the smile that spread across her face.

Megan stared at her, hand pausing.

"You were right," Geneva admitted, crouching down at her side. She offered her hand for Ardens to smell. The growlithe sniffed and licked at the palm of her hand, and Geneva felt warm inside. "Thank you."

Megan's face went a little pink. She pushed her copper hair past her ear and smiled back.

"Oh, um! You're welcome! I was glad to help." She petted Ardens again. "He's so cute …"

A flash of realization – Geneva looked at Megan.

"How do you know it's a he?"

Megan giggled, still pink.

"Well, he, um. It's kind of easy to tell," the girl said, pointing at growlithe's behind. Geneva's face went hot, and she averted her eyes.

"Right," she muttered. "But how about Anima?"

"Oh, right."

She reached into her bag – they'd left their backpacks a little ways behind the growlithe – and pulled out her pokédex.

"The 'dex told me! It has everything you need to know about your pokémon. Their gender – or lack of it – included!"

It was true. At the very top of the screen, there were details Geneva had missed. Weight, size, a playable recording of the species' cry, the symbol of its footprint (there was nothing there), and the gender of the latest analyzed specimen. The symbol was right at the end of the chart, and Geneva couldn't believe she hadn't noticed it before.

"Thank you," Geneva said, handing the pokédex over.

Megan waved her hands, and pointed at Ardens.

"Why don't you analyze him? You should know what moves he's got."

Of course; she should've remembered. Ears still burning, Geneva pulled out her notebook and her pen, and copied the information in the pokédex.

Ardens was sitting at a comfortable level fifteen, and had six moves available. Geneva had seen ember and bite already, but, out of all she hadn't seen, it was odor sleuth that interested her the most: Anima's advantage against normal attacks disappeared once she was sleuthed.

Geneva turned the page and wrote that down, underlining it twice, and then returned to the page she'd reserved for Ardens. She glanced at him, and found Ardens sniffing at the targets, hopping from foot to foot.

Growlithe had a late evolution – it took some time and balanced training until a growlithe was capable of absorbing a fire stone without secondary effects. And fire stones were expensive too, but Geneva didn't particularly mind. She didn't need powerful pokémon.

A growlithe like Ardens was just enough: she had a fire-starter and a friend, all in one.

"He's great," Geneva said, handing over the pokédex to Megan. "I'm glad he joined us."

"They're a great starter pokémon for a reason," Megan said. Ardens trotted over to her and wagged its tail, offering his head. Megan grinned and petted him again. Geneva gathered up her courage and did the same – its fur was soft and warm, and it calmed her.

She could've stayed there forever. The sun was warm, the skies were clear, and Geneva hadn't felt so tranquil for a long time. But eventually reality caught up with them in the form of Shawn at the door.

"How's he doing?" the nurse asked, smiling. "His vitals were fine, but I was wondering about his social skills."

"He's great!" Megan said, beaming up at him. "The pokédex evaluated him as too young to have any babies, and he's been super sweet so far."

"That's great," Shawn said, crouching down and petting the growlithe. "You were lucky – the breeding season started in April. Most growlithe in route eight are probably parents by now."

Realization splashed across Geneva like ice water.

"Did I steal him from his parents?" she asked, feeling suddenly wretched.

Both Shawn and Megan frowned at her in confusion. Ardens was panting, head cocked.

"What do you mean?" Shawn asked. "From our evaluation, your growlithe was likely born out of breeding season. His parents have probably already released him into the wild – in a manner of speaking, of course."

"Oh. Okay," she managed, relieved.

"Do things like that bother you?" the nurse pressed, still looking concerned.

"Shouldn't it? I don't want to take away— don't they get sad?"

Megan was looking a little sad, herself. Shawn's frown deepened.

"It's the natural way of life," he said, getting up on his feet. "Trainers balance the numbers, just like nature does. Overpopulation is averted by capture rates or death."

She'd learned about that in elementary, too. But it was one thing to read about it in history books, and another to actively participate in it. It sounded so much easier in the books – pokémon breeds pokémon, trainer catches pokémon, pokémon breeds more pokémon. Too many pokémon left unattended were a threat, and trainers had a hand in fixing it. And yet …

"Okay," Geneva said, brushing through Ardens' warm fur with her fingers.

He didn't _seem_ unhappy. If anything, he looked happy to be here. Some pokémon _did_ prefer a constant supply of food and care instead of a life in the wilderness. Megan had told her that, too.

Shawn didn't particularly seem convinced, but he didn't press.

"We'll be serving dinner in half an hour," he said instead. And then, smiling very politely: "We also offer laundry services, if you'd like to use them. A hundred yen for a full load."

Geneva felt her whole face and neck go hot, but she nodded. The smell of cotton lavender was more obvious than she'd thought, it seemed.

Megan giggled, though not unkindly, and Ardens barked, wanting to join in on the conversation.

* * *

The decision to leave Ardens out of his pokéball was easy.

Anima was still suspicious of most people, and hadn't yet learned (or wanted) to compress her poisonous cloud into a more agreeable shape, but Ardens was almost _eager_ to please humans. It was odd for Geneva to see – she was used to wild pokémon who fled or attacked, even after being caught and tagged. But Ardens was curious, sweet, and didn't even blink at the people who walked in and out of the pokécenter lobby.

After Megan had left, Geneva remained by the computer in the corner for the remainder of the afternoon, wanting to brush up on her exam-taking skills. She didn't have the money to request another exam, nor the time, and she was still meaning to find out where Pierce was. Passing the exam on her first try wouldn't be so hard, surely – if the minimum age for training was eleven, Geneva would _have_ to pass. What would her mother say if she didn't? What would Pierce? No, there was no way she could flunk.

Ardens had taken up to curling by her feet, while she filled out years-old forms. With each of his snores, there was a warm breeze drifting into the space where Geneva's jeans ended and her socks began – curious but pleasant, and she'd had to force herself not to giggle the first time it had happened.

Shawn had thrown her an odd look once or twice, when he passed with the pokéball tray in his hands, but eventually had decided to let her be.

"How goes the studying?"

Or perhaps not. Geneva flinched, spine straightening, and looked up at him. The tray, empty, had been tucked under his arm, and his eyes were on the computer screen.

"It's okay," she managed, feeling a little embarrassed. "I haven't failed any exams yet."

Shawn grinned at her.

"That's good! I've gotten word from the municipal department about your exam – it's supposed to come tomorrow or the day after that." His free hand tapped against the top surface of the large screen, short nails silent against the plastic. "I figured I should tell you, in case you wanted to catch more pokémon."

What did that have to do with anything? Geneva wanted to, eventually, but she could just as easily do it after the exam, couldn't she?

"I meant, uh – before you set out tomorrow, give me a shout-out, and I'll check if your exam is ready or not," Shawn explained, cocking his head. "The sooner you do it, the sooner you'll get your license, and the sooner you can reap its benefits."

"Oh," Geneva said, feeling stupid. "Right."

"Anyway," the older boy said, scratching at his neck, "I'll leave you to it. Good luck, yeah?"

She nodded, ears warm, and watched him leave out of the corner of her eye. Ardens had stirred awake sometime during their conversation, and was blinking slowly. Geneva bent to the side, fingers curling behind his warm ears, and told herself things were going to be fine.

She finished up the exam, received a passing grade – not a very good one – and decided to get some dinner.

The vegetarian pie was good, if a little salty, while Ardens was given one of the rattata loins from the day before. Geneva touched at Anima's pokéball, wondering if the gastly was hungry, but Anima didn't reply, and Geneva let the matter go. Poison types like gastly and muk survived well in large cities anyway – the air pollution was likely more than enough nourishment.

Besides, if Anima wanted something, she'd likely have managed a way to let Geneva know. After all, Ardens himself attempted to, pulling on the end of Geneva's jeans with his teeth until Shawn noticed and told Geneva he wanted to go for a walk.

"Pokémon with canine characteristics like growlithe and houndour enjoy taking one or two walks a day, if they're kept outside their pokéballs. The houndour line needs leashes, unless they're extremely well trained, but a growlithe should be easy to handle."

He was filling out paperwork, but he averted his eyes from the screen in order to smile at Ardens.

"Morning and evening are usually when they want to go on walks, though there are exceptions – and, as a result, very tired trainers. Consider yourself lucky!"

Geneva figured she did.

She thanked Shawn with a nod, and picked up her bag from her room before following Ardens out of the pokécenter. She hadn't forgotten Megan's advice, and wouldn't stray far from the pokécenter or the main streets – even if Saffron seemed even more fantastic at night. There were neon signs lit-up, reflecting on the high surface of the skyscrapers and making it seem like the whole city was colorful and bright. Geneva stopped to stare, a little awed, and only snapped out of it when Ardens barked at her expectantly.

"Okay," she replied, feeling silly, and walked after him.

It was warm outside, enough that she didn't need to zip up her jacket; summer was right around the corner. Geneva did it anyway, not wanting to risk catching a cold on the account of a sudden breeze, and tried capturing as many colorful signs as she could. A few steps ahead of her, Ardens was sniffing garbage cans and benches, tail tense with curiosity.

There were a lot of buildings open at night. Lavender town's pokémart was open from eight to eight (ten, during the pilgrimages), and the Tower's doors were always open – the channelers took shifts to ensure the sanctity of the graves remained intact. But all the shops closed when the sun set, and there were no things with which to replace them apart from the town's tavern, and Geneva had never set a foot inside it.

Saffron was clearly proud of its sleepless nights – there were signs reading _OPEN 24 HOURS_ , or _24/7 ALL YEAR,_ and if that was odd then she didn't know what to think of the scantily clad girls that peppered across some of the neon lights. Their legs swung up and down at the same time the letters blinked, almost hypnotizing, and suddenly Geneva realized exactly what Megan had meant, before.

Her face went hot. She averted her eyes and quickly followed after Ardens, who was now burrowing through a flower bed.

"Tickets? Y'all want tickets?" a young girl was calling out, waving a stack of red papers. "Big Jo's up today – match of the month!"

"That wailmer routine again?" a young man replied, chortling. "You know it doesn't count when you have the fish sit on the pokémon until they asphyxiate."

The girl glared at him, puffing out her chest – a shiny red ball was strapped across her shirt. Ardens cocked his head at the sight, tongue lolled out of his mouth.

"Not for us," Geneva murmured, bending over to pet him.

"You gonna talk the talk or you gonna take the walk, Gan?" the girl said, pointing at her pokéball. The young man scoffed, but the derision faded when he walked off. "Yeah, that's right. Take the fuckin' walk. And better not call the cops on us, this time!"

"The way you keep shouting, you're not gonna need a snitch," another girl said, pushing herself off the wall. "Get out, Zola. Go get yourself a soda pop while I cover your loud ass."

The girl – Zola – mouthed off under her breath, and Ardens narrowed his eyes at her. Geneva pressed against the nape of his neck, trying to calm him, but the girl glared down at Geneva as she passed.

"The hell you staring at? Get lost before you hurt yourself," she hissed, stomping across the pavement. Geneva averted her eyes as quickly as she could, while Ardens growled and brought his tail up, the tip straight.

She waited until the girl had disappeared into the closest street before getting to her feet. Ardens still looked incensed – it was likely he was still picking up Zola's scent – so Geneva pressed a knee against his shoulder gently.

"It's okay," she said, and waited for him to go on walking.

He eventually did, tail relaxing and nose pointed to the floor once more. He seemed interested in the trash littered across the street, mostly – trash that hadn't been there during the day. Saffron looked grittier when the sun set. The people, too.

"Looks stressful, if you ask me," Geneva murmured, glancing at the skyscrapers. They were pretty; all flashes of neon colors like a blinking rainbow. But the rest of it seemed darker in comparison. The alleys she'd passed by during the day were even more menacing.

Ardens offered a soft bark, and Geneva nodded, lost in thoughts of colors and dark corners.

* * *

Her exam hadn't arrived yet. Shawn had said that this meant it would surely arrive the next day, so Geneva studied up on battle tactics while she waited for Megan to appear. The basics were easy to grasp; elementary school had covered the elemental types like fire, water, and grass. Geneva had learned about ghosts, too – all Lavenderers did, whether they wanted to or not.

But the rest … abilities, natures, individual and effort values …

"It gets way easier," Megan promised, slurping her smoothie. She'd asked for a loopy straw. "You're just confused because you're starting out. Abilities are kind of a pain to memorize – long list. And the pokédex really helps with the values. The only way you can keep track of those is by going into the pokécenter and asking the nurses."

Geneva nodded, sipping at her smoothie.

"But honestly, just don't worry about that stuff. Only experienced trainers even bother with that." She leaned over the table, like she was telling a secret. "You know, highly competitive people. League-challengers, tournament takers. And they're _all_ party-poopers."

It seemed like the kind of thing Pierce would care about. Geneva nearly smiled.

"What you need is to start out with three or four pokémon, so you can travel safely. Different types – duals, if you can manage – are the key. Water pokémon for drinking water, fire types to light your campfire." Then she leaned back, looking a little pink. "Um, sorry if I'm boring you."

"You're not," Geneva assured. "I like to hear you. The computer kind of tires me out, sometimes."

Megan's eyes drifted down to the bags under Geneva's eyes.

"Yeah, you look tired. Nervous about the exam?"

"A little." Geneva shrugged. "I haven't failed any, yet. Maybe it'll be all right."

"It'll definitely be all right! You look like you have a good head on your shoulders! These exams are made for eleven year olds, don't forget."

Geneva took another sip of her smoothie. It was frothy, and tasted like artificial strawberry, nothing like the natural juices from Lavender's orchards. She nodded, licking the bubbles from her lip, but couldn't help but to think of Pierce, hunched over the library tables until the sun set.

"Mm," she murmured, looking at the busy street.

Pierce looked back, blue eyes alit with the midday sun, and Geneva bent her straw at a straight angle without thinking.

"He's cute," Megan giggled, "but you don't have to—"

"Pierce," Geneva breathed, standing up.

The metal chair screeched against the cement. The other patrons looked up from their lunches with confused expressions.

"Pierce!"

Megan's eyes were wide, her brows pinched together. Geneva jogged over to the street, leaving the café behind with such haste that she nearly tripped over the edge of the pavement.

"Lookin' desperate there, Geneva," Pierce greeted, and his smile was brighter than the sun. "Some things don't change, huh?"

"No," she gasped, "they don't."

"What's up with the kid?" Pierce asked, looking over Geneva's shoulder. "Didn't think you'd replace me this fast – that's ice cold, Gev. Ice. Cold."

"That's not—no, I wouldn't—" she stammered, hand gripping at his sleeve. Voice faltering, she murmured: "Stop that. I missed you."

"'Course you did," he replied, smirking in a way that made Geneva's heart feel light. It had been days, but it felt like forever since she'd seen him. "Well? You gonna buy me a smoothie, or what? I'm flat broke."

Geneva wasn't that well-off, either, but not having to buy food or traveling supplies helped. She nodded, still catching her breath, and then made her way back to the table.

Megan was still frowning – at Pierce, this time. He smirked down at her, pulling the chair next to Geneva's and sitting. Megan turned a little pink, quickly glancing over at Geneva.

"This is Pierce – um, he's, um—"

"Future Indigo champion Pierce Outerridge," he cut in, extending a hand and a bright smile. Megan took it with a confused look, flushing even more. "Also known as Geneva's childhood friend, if you're into that kind of thing."

"Uh," Megan squeaked.

"Guess my starter," Pierce said suddenly, turning towards Geneva. "Bartered for a full hour before I could get my hands on him."

"As fierce as Pierce?" she asked, smiling at him.

Between them, Megan's eyes were wide as saucers.

"Do you need to ask?"

She didn't. Biting back a full-fledged grin, she nodded at him eagerly.

"Well?" Geneva asked, leaning into the table. Her smoothie lay forgotten, by her elbow. "What pokémon did you get?"

Pierce laughed, plucking a pokéball out of his belt and showing her.

"Fresh houndour – early bird, hasty, and a mean sonnuvabitch. Sicarius."

The name rolled off the tongue. _Sicarius_ ; assassin, killer. Pierce always knew how to go full-on dramatic. He was probably already thinking how the name would make a splash in the League's newsletter.

"Four days I've had him, and he already is a bad motherf—"

Megan cleared her throat very pointedly, face red.

"Cute," Pierce said, smirking. His eyes returned to Geneva's. "Got a nidoran in a trade, too – cost me five abra, but it was worth it. Slippery little dipshits make for luxury pets, can you believe it? Yellow things have zero defense, but apparently they look good hovering next to you, so I get to drop a couple of pokéballs—"

"Hey! _I've_ got an abra, and she's great as any other psychic type," Megan said, frowning, "Geneva helped me get her."

"No shit?" Pierce asked, eyebrows raising. "Since when do you do anything worthwhile? Been holding out on me all these years."

Megan narrowed her eyes, and opened her mouth – but, before she could speak, Geneva cut in.

"Mother gave me a gastly," she said, pointing at the bulge in her jacket's pocket. "It's easy to catch pokémon if you have a mean look."

Pierce barked out a laugh, hand slapping against the glass table.

"Holy shit! I never knew your mom had a sense of humor! A dead pokémon for the dead girl," he managed, trying to contain his laughter. "Oh, gods, I wish I'd been there."

"Excuse me?" Megan asked, looking livid.

"It's okay," Geneva assured, still smiling. She turned her eyes to Pierce again. "I figured it was the cheapest one to get. A channeler probably got it for her. It was a nice thought."

"Right," Pierce said, still laughing, "since she's always been _such_ a nice lady and all. Well, I guess it doesn't matter. At least she got you a goodbye gift. Perks of working the Tower, right? It's more than I can say for my mom. Couldn't even filch a pokémon from the center for me."

"She's caught a growlithe, too," Megan said coolly. Her smoothie had been forgotten, too. "Just yesterday, in fact."

"Been busy, I see," Pierce said, resting his chin on his hand. Glacial blue met unwashed gray. His eyes nearly crackled. "Looking to outdo me, Gev? How's that exam coming up?"

"I'll take it tomorrow," she said, pushing her hair behind her ear. "I think I can pass."

"How about we test your skill, then?" Pierce asked, leaning back on his chair. "Two on two, Geneva. How about a little practice?"

Her insides went cold. She recognized the tone of his voice – it was the same one she heard every time her Latin tests had higher grades than his. It often preluded week-long tantrums.

"No," she muttered, eyes wide. "I just – I just want to travel. With you. I don't want to battle—"

Pierce sighed, then, eyes rolling. It was a loud sigh – meant to disarm her. Geneva knew this, but it still worked.

"You know I'd lose," she said, reaching for her straw. It was still oddly bent. Inside the plastic, the remains of bubbles stuck to the walls. "All I want to do is keep up with you."

"Well, you can't." He stared at the street, one hand pushing back his unruly hair.

"Why not?" Megan asked, sounding outraged.

Pierce stood up instead of answering, fetching his wallet from the inside of his jacket.

"How about," he said, and flashed his trainer's ID, "you let me pay for your smoothies?"

He looked good in the picture. The plastic shone in the sun, the embossed numbers neat in the corner. Number 95777, category A. _League-challenger_.

"You got your license," Geneva breathed, looking up at him.

"And you still got your eyesight," he replied, grinning. Slipping his ID back into his wallet, he rolled his shoulders. "I figured I'd head out to Celadon, next. Erika's not a pushover, but Sicarius can handle a little grass. Besides, I got some shit I need to do."

"You're leaving already?" Geneva asked, feeling the sharp bite of disappointment.

"Time is money. Meet me up there, if you can," Pierce said, shrugging. He sighed dramatically as he glanced at his wristwatch. "Ah, crap. I gotta go. I've got to meet someone before I head out – shouldn't even have stuck here for so long."

"Oh," Geneva murmured, suppressing the urge to stand up and grab him by the sleeve. "Um, right. I'll go to Celadon after my exam."

"It's a date." He grinned at Geneva, and winked at Megan. This time, the girl didn't blush, she only narrowed her eyes at him. "If you manage to get over eighty, I'll buy you a lemonade."

And he stepped back into the fray with a cocky wave. Geneva watched his head until it disappeared, and then stared some more.

"He didn't even _pay_ for anything," Megan complained, pushing her glass across the table. "Just wanted to flash his stupid card around."

"Mm," Geneva replied, eyes on the crowd and heart tight.

* * *

"So, you understand the software, right? When you finish up the theory exercises, you press the button at the end, and then you take the simulation—"

"She got it," Megan cut in, grinning widely. Shawn frowned at her. "Go knock them dead, okay, Geneva? An hour from now, you'll be a certified trainer. I'm one hundred percent sure!"

Geneva buried her shaking hands in her pockets, and stared at the computer behind the counter.

"I'm going to be right behind you, if you need anything," Shawn said, "but I won't be able to help you with any answers."

"Okay," Geneva said, and took a deep breath.

"Good luck!" Megan said, from the other side of the counter, but all Geneva heard was _hurry up,_ in Pierce's voice. _I'm tired of always waiting around, Gev_.

The screen went white, then dark, and a loading bar filled up very slowly. Beneath her hands, the keyboard waited.

* * *

 **POKÉMON TRAINER ID** (Encyclopedic Glossary): A five-digit number that is assigned to a Trainer when they begin their Pokémon journey.

* * *

 **A/N:** this chapter's song is "please, please, please" by fiona apple.

pierce's monologue regarding bugs was directly influenced by a great pokémon-centric fic: _butterfree_ , by **dragonfree**. encyclopedic glossary is a fancy term for Bulbapedia lmao

re: other languages –

latin texts survived throughout history, and lavender priests use it as their main language when they're in training, believing it brings them closer to the gods. some pokémon professors use it for scientific names as well, though younger professors have all but abandoned the practice. this headcanon is supported by one of oddish's pokédex entry, which claims – _its scientific name is 'Oddium Wanderus'._ (pkmn fire red)

english is used across the pokéworld, with accent differentiations. it is the "main" language, if you will.

french is the secondary language in kalos, though many residents prefer to use it in order to appear more stylish, which leads to confusion when people from other countries go to visit.

old-fashioned families or towns implement old languages, traditions, and names in their lifestyles (e.g. the johto-kanto peninsula has obvious japanese roots and traditions, while kalos and sinnoh are more european).


	5. Cause I Was Still Unsure

Yes, I've heard.

It's a pleasure.

Yes, he told me about that. You don't need to worry – Outerridge likes the attention. He'll be back. He is rather predictable. You don't think so? Well. Perhaps it only looks that way to me, then. Keep calling him, though. I assure you he'll answer when he's ready to garner more of your undivided attention. It might even be soon.

… Of course – I understand.

There is no need to beg for forgiveness. If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't. You have to understand, however, that I am a busy woman. I can't simply clear my schedule on such short notice. You're lucky I was free just as Outerridge chose to throw one of his tantrums.

Mmhm. Yes. No, feel free to ask. It is much easier to answer questions than to prattle on about my opinions. After all, I'm sure Outerridge has the emotional part of the story covered. … How did I know? Well, I know him. As you're aware. Unfortunately, we are acquaintances. Have been, really; for quite some time. That is not to say I discard people around myself like he does. But a woman of my position isn't able to keep many friends. And those I keep are both rare and hard to find. Surely you understand the double meaning. Despite Outerridge's claims, I'm sure you aren't daft.

Ah, he told you that, did he? Once again, predictable. Yes, he enjoys attempting to get under my skin. However, I can count in one hand the times he has been successful. … Are you implying I am not in control of myself? I certainly think I've made it out unscathed. You've _met_ Outerridge, haven't you? Are you comparing me to him?

No, it's fine. Just try to think before you ask me baseless questions. As I've said before, I don't have much time, and I'd rather not waste it arguing. Or repeating myself.

Oh, regarding _that_ – feel free to call me whatever you like. Most people go on to do just that. In the past years, I've gathered quite the number of titles. Besides, having just one name is boring, wouldn't you agree? … I've lost you, it seems. No matter. I don't need to explain, and you wouldn't understand anyway. Feel free to call me Mush, if you like. It rolls off one's mouth quite easily. The meaning isn't as pleasing, in my opinion, nor do I think it fits any part of me. But I have grown to enjoy it, in a way—

Well. Aren't you brazen? That's quite the loaded question.

Why do you care? Because he mentioned it? I see. Well. There are only two people who know the answer, and I don't feel like adding one more to the list. Perhaps I'll write it down on my biography – it's coming out next year. Ah, no, I simply jest. I apologize. I have nothing to do with it; I will have nothing to do with it. It's an attempt to squeeze money out of the masses. It will likely work, too. I don't particularly care.

You see, I am in no need of money. I am in no need of fame. I already have all the things I'll ever be able to get.

* * *

 **Chapter V:  
'Cause I Was Still Unsure, or There's So Much I Wanna Tell You**

* * *

Her ID gleamed under the light whenever she took it out of her wallet. Geneva felt oddly satisfied by this. She turned it over in her hands as she stood in line for the deposit counter, as she returned to the pokécenter, as she paid her first soda pop with a swipe of the card.

Megan had sighed wistfully, pressing the cold can to her cheek, and had grinned widely.

"Thanks! You know, I should be the one to pay. But, um, anyway—" she'd said, "where do you go from here, miss trainer?"

Trainer. It was odd to hear it out loud, even if most people so far had assumed Geneva was one. It felt _official_. She ducked her face away to smile, hiding behind her hair, and shrugged.

"Celadon," Geneva said, slipping her brand-new ID into her wallet. Megan's face fell at the sound of her voice, expression twisting into a frown.

"Listen," the younger girl began, "about Pierce …"

"Congratulations," called a deep, smooth voice from the counter. Both Geneva and Megan startled a bit, turning on their heels.

The dark-skinned young woman was smiling at them, elbows on the counter. On her chest, the nametag read _Sarah_ , and Geneva relaxed.

"Stop scaring the trainers," Shawn called out from the back room, tapping the glass with his knuckles. Sarah waved at him dismissively over her shoulder, rolling the chair a little closer to the two girls.

"It's been a while since we've had an exam around these parts," she said, freckled nose wrinkling. "Just wanted to congratulate you! Shawn said you were a nervous girl—"

"I did _not_ ," Shawn's muffled voice asserted quickly.

"—but an eighty-seven on an exam is nothing to sneeze at! Guess you aren't that nervous after all, huh?"

"Thank you," Geneva muttered, feeling her neck grow warm.

"No problem," the nurse said, grinning. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a nap before my shift starts. I'll be expecting to see you on TV one of these days, y'hear me?"

Geneva nodded frantically, unsure of how to react. TV? Not in a lifetime, if she could avoid it. At her side, Megan's eyes were wide and bright as they turned to her.

"That would be _so_ cool! Can you imagine the look on Bevin's face if I told him I _knew_ you? Oh, and I bet you'd have at least three or four clothes' companies chasing after you for the red carpet events, just like Karen, or even Lorelei—" her face went a little pink, and she cleared her throat abruptly. "Uh, a-anyway, you're going to Celadon, right?"

Geneva felt confused – there had been a lot of social interaction in the last two minutes, half of which she didn't totally understand – but she nodded firmly.

"Yes. I'll meet up with Pierce and we'll go together from then on."

Megan's face twisted again, but she shook her head and nodded back with a smile.

"Right. Well, here." She searched through her pocket and fished out a piece of folded paper. The handwriting was very neat and round. "Have my home number. I don't have a pokégear, but if you ever need anything you can give us a call! Celadon is really close by, and my cousin lives there too, so if you ever need anything, you can just … y'know."

Geneva picked it up and carefully set it in her inside pocket. She would have to write it down on her notebook later – but now there was only one thing she was meant to do.

"Thank you, Megan," Geneva said, smiling. "For everything."

Megan inhaled as she grinned, puffing her chest out and shining brighter than the sun.

"You're welcome," the younger girl said, and brought her arms around Geneva for a quick, comforting hug. Geneva stiffened in surprise – it had been a long time since she'd last hugged anyone – but she patted the smaller girl's back with an unsure hand anyway.

"Ah, young folks. It warms the heart," Sarah's voice filtered out through the back door.

Geneva's face went warm, and Megan took a step back at the same time she rolled her eyes.

"You're _twenty_ ," Shawn said, both exasperated and muffled.

* * *

Both Shawn and Megan had sworn by the underground path, but Geneva was starting to regret having taken their advice. The road looked like a subway station like the ones in Unova, but one without trains, or benches, or even proper streetlights. Geneva wasn't afraid of the dark, and Ardens was a good pokémon to keep around in the chill of the path, but there was still something unsettling about a dimly-lit road one couldn't see the end of.

If there hadn't been people coming and going, Geneva would've likely turned back and taken the scenic route. But there were several people walking towards Celadon, too. Old ladies, chattering as they took slow steps; roughed-up looking bikers with bruised pokémon; even one or two kids passed by.

"You need to watch for the children, you know," a croaky voice said from Geneva's left.

She stiffened, frightened, and turned to look. Ardens barked softly, tail wagging, and the old man grinned down at him.

"Oh my! What a nice pokémon you have there. Very polite! My arcanine couldn't turn down her voice no matter how many times I tried to teach her."

Geneva blinked at him. Was this a part of being a trainer? Did people come up and randomly talked to you, just because you had pokémon on you? She couldn't see herself growing used to it—

"Anyway, like I was saying," the old man went on, pointing at the children they'd passed a while ago, "you need to watch out for the children. If they're alone, they're most likely waiting to pick your pocket."

Geneva's eyes widened; her hand immediately went to the inside of her jacket, patting down the fabric until her fingers pressed against the ridge of her wallet.

"T-Thank you," she said, a little breathless.

"You're very much welcome, miss. Pardon me if I butted in on your thoughts, but I simply couldn't leave it well alone. You looked far too unconcerned with the path to know about its dangers – sure, there might not be wild pokémon, but there are those who take advantage of this road."

He cleared his throat, bringing up a fancy handkerchief to his mouth. In his other hand there was a plastic bag.

"There's trainer battles too, if you'd believe it. Deplorable, I tell you. They muck up the ground and the walls, and do you think they're the ones who clean it up? No, sir! They just go off on their merry way and never think of it again."

Geneva was starting to realize what Shawn had meant with, _you should probably just not talk to anyone down there._ The old man meant well, but he was a little—

"And don't even get me started on the lack ventilation shafts! Used to be that the air was clean, but nowadays the battling has gone out of control, and no one _ever_ picks up their pokémon's – well, I'm sure you know what I mean! It's not like the city hall has any funds to renovate the system, either, so Celadon and Saffron have managed to find volunteers to clean up. But it's a hard task, and there are lots of people who don't manage to last a month! Why, just last year we had a few promising young folks to help us, but the moment they realized how hard it was to clean down here … And the police? Pah! They're overburdened. There were once stations on each end of the path, but not anymore, no sir. Now all we get is four rounds a day, and everyone worth their belt knows exactly when the police officers are around, see? Like that would help in anything!"

—talkative.

Geneva blinked at him, unsure whether she was supposed to reply or not. She'd never thought that there could be issues with pokémon outside of the wilderness. Lavender had its share of wild ghost-types, but they were kept in check by the channelers – and the neighborhood associations made sure everyone picked up their pokémon's poop.

Then again, Lavender was small; an area easy to cover from tip to toe. Saffron and Celadon, sprawled across miles and miles – weren't.

"Mm," Geneva finally said, cocking her head to the side. Ardens barked, tail swooshing, and went on ahead. Under the fluorescent lights, his tail nearly obfuscated her.

"But I'm sure someone as polite as you has doggy bags with her. Growlithe look after themselves, but – ah! Excuse me," he said, leaning down to pick up a bent can and stash it in his plastic bag. "See what I mean? The walk from one city to the other is – at worst! – half an hour, but people still can't be bothered to do the civil thing. The world's changing, miss. It really is."

"Mm-hm," Geneva said again, lips pressed against each other.

She'd have to stop for plastic bags as soon as she could – she hadn't even thought about things like that. Did gastly poop, too? It wasn't as if they ate solid food, unless you meant to give them a treat … Geneva scratched at her wrist, thinking back on the encyclopedia's entries.

"Good afternoon, Marian. How are the children?" the old man said to the side, as they passed a woman with shopping bags.

"As loud as ever," the woman replied in a soft voice. Her smile, though kind, seemed very tired. "How goes the cleaning, Mr. Filipe?"

"It goes, it goes! I'll see you later, missie," the old man replied, nodding back at her. Geneva watched her disappear into the tunnel, paper bags crinkling with each step. "Marian lives over in Saffron, but she always shops at Celadon's mall. It's got more discounts than any other mall in the country, did you know?"

Geneva didn't. Geneva didn't know a lot of things, it seemed. So she listened to Mr. Filipe's words – all one hundred thousand of them – as they walked through the Underground Path.

* * *

The small clearing was easy to miss, if you weren't looking for it. Mr. Filipe had given her detailed and explicit instructions on how to get there, and even then Geneva had missed it the first two times she'd walked by.

"It looks okay," she said, wiping dirty hands on her jeans.

Ardens barked his assent, tail wagging, and gave the tent a long lick. It wavered a little under his attentions; Geneva held her breath as the plastic cover slid off the center of the tent, but eventually stayed put.

She'd found the tent at a discount. Celadon's shopping district put Saffron's largest mall to shame – there were streets and streets' worth of shops. Tiny ones, run by families; larger ones, run by smiling workers; dozens of stands on the streets that didn't pack up and run when the police officers walked by.

Geneva had found her tent in one of the smaller shops: "Hey, miss, are you a trainer?" the boy sitting on the stairs had asked. "My mom's shop is having a sale, you know. Survival stuff, is what she calls it – we got pans, sporks, army knives, tents—"

It wasn't a very big tent. It was just enough for Geneva and her bag. Its waterproof cover slid off with the smallest of movements. She'd had to hit the stakes with a rock she'd found nearby, because she hadn't remembered to buy a hammer. Her cushion was thin enough that Geneva realized she hadn't cleared the area where she'd set up the tent. All in all, it was a poor tent, and an even poorer camping experience.

But they were both _hers_. Geneva's heart felt light inside her chest as she sat down near the sandy circle on the ground – likely used by other trainers before her – and set the twigs Ardens had gathered in a pile.

The can of beans sat by her side, near the open mouth of her bag. Ardens sniffed it, pawed at it, and then woofed softly. It sounded as though he was disappointed, somehow.

"I know. It's not much. I promise we'll only stay for one night."

She fumbled with the kerosene fluid; the child-proof lid was hard to twist off.

If Pierce had been here, he'd already be laughing. He wasn't, of course. He wasn't in any of the three pokécenters, nor had he been in any of the shops Geneva had walked into. It didn't surprise her, though it did disappoint her – had he left again? Her hand twisted around the metallic bottle. Maybe he was still in Celadon, waiting for the perfect time to pop out of the crowd and –

The twigs suddenly burst out with flame. Geneva backtracked with her hands, face warm from the sudden fire. Ardens barked in delight, mouth still glowing, and trotted around the fire once. In her pocket, Anima was twitching.

"Right," she managed, a little short of breath. "Thank you, Ardens."

He barked, open mouth like a proud grin.

Geneva's pocket stilled at the sound, then gave one final twitch. Ardens noticed. He pointed his nose at it, his tail unmoving.

"It _has_ been a while," Geneva agreed.

The fear was still there, though. Anima was hard to handle, and this time there was no Megan to help out if anything went awry.

 _Don't be such a coward,_ Piece would've said.

 _I'm not_ , Geneva thought. It felt like a lie.

She let Anima's ball roll off the palm of her hand anyway. Instantly, the air went bitter as it seeped into Geneva's nostrils – she covered her nose with her hand and stared up at Anima's delighted grin.

"Hello," she tried, and then added: "Anima."

Megan had been a staunch defender that nicknames should be used as often as possible, especially when the pokémon wasn't used to them. Ardens had immediately taken to his name – he barely turned his head when Geneva slipped up and called him by his species' name. But Anima … Anima still cackled when Geneva tried out her new name.

She did so now, in fact. But she didn't try and launch herself at Geneva; instead she floated up in the air and spread out her cloud like a person would spread their arms.

It really _had_ been a while, hadn't it? One night and one day, give or take. Did pokémon feel cooped up inside their pokéballs? Did they notice how much time had passed? Was there any way of knowing? She'd have to write it down on her ever-growing questions' list as soon as the fire was under control.

Geneva sat back on her hands, legs crossed, and stared at her pokémon. Ardens was jumping and biting at Anima's cloud. Anima was mostly ignoring him, though she was unable to hide her glee when Ardens sneezed twice in a row.

"Please don't hurt him," Geneva said without thinking.

Anima gave her a disgusted look, floating up into the closest tree branch and gathering her gases into a more condensed cloud. The color thickened along with it – from a light shade of lavender to a deeper purple. Ardens barked a loud bark, running towards the tree and attempting to climb it.

Anima snickered. She sounded like someone with hiccups was trying to suck up air from a balloon.

Geneva smiled. Knees drawn up, arms beneath the folds of her jeans, and the scent of a crisp fire. Celadon was a lovely town with well-kept gardens sprouting at every corner, but this … This was better.

Even if the pokécenter _was_ serving strawberry Jell-O tonight.

* * *

She woke up to the sound of chirping pokémon. Breakfast was simple – she warmed up some milk with Ardens' help and munched on the rest of a cheese sandwich she'd picked up in Celadon.

The growlithe had chosen to curl up against Geneva's bent knees during the night, while Anima had sprawled across the tree leaves and stayed there. It hadn't been a very good idea, despite Anima being in a better mood – the leaves in the branch she'd perched in had gone brown and limp as though it were autumn. Geneva frowned at it, feeling a little guilty, and then resumed packing her things up.

"It's kind of fun, isn't it?" she asked her pokémon. "Camping, I mean."

Ardens barked his assent. Anima remained silent and smirking, hovering around the two of them. Much to Geneva's surprise, the gastly smelled more pleasant than ever before – instead of ammonia, she smelled like … geraniums, maybe?

"You're in a good mood, Anima?"

Anima replied with a cackle, gathering her cloud closer to her body. _It's none of your business,_ she seemed to say. Geneva smiled at that, and put her backpack on with some effort. The tent added some weight, despite it being advertised as one of the lightest in the market.

It was fine, though. Geneva wanted to stay in the pokécenter tonight – despite wanting to camp more often, she needed to find Pierce and a toilet. Though no one had walked by, and though Geneva hadn't heard anything other than wild pokémon cries, she hadn't had the courage to go in the bushes.

"Well, come on then. Back into your pokéballs for now."

Ardens whined, but didn't argue; Anima made a hissing sound that only stopped once Geneva returned her.

* * *

The gate guard nodded as her as she passed, glancing up from his magazine. Behind the gates, Celadon waited. Geneva made her way to the closest pokécenter, near the department store. She'd visited it yesterday, taking a brief nap in one of the sofas while her pokémon rested.

Today, however, there were no free sofas. Geneva blanched at the sight of the full pokécenter – there was a line of people at the counter, and twice that number gathering around the television. She wanted nothing more than to take a step back and flee into the streets, but once more Pierce's voice pushed her into taking action: _a coward,_ he said, from Geneva's mind. _A small little coward._

She walked. She kept her eyes on the floor and her hands wrapped around the handles of her bag, but she walked up to the end of the line.

"I heard it, too. A pikachu and a butterfree," the trainer in front of her was saying.

"I thought it was a beedrill," said another.

"No way was it a beedrill," she argued. "They're too focused on attack. One strike from onix's tail and it would've been over. Besides, poison's no good against Brock. It had to be a butterfree."

"Maybe … They do tend to prance around. And you're right about the poison, but how do you explain the _electric_ type? That's really what bugs me. Ha, get it? Bugs—"

"Well. Yes," the trainer cut off, bringing a hand to scratch at her forehead. "If there's something everyone agrees on, is that it was a pikachu."

"Thanks for ignoring my pun, Jackie," said the other trainer, rolling her eyes.

Geneva had been raised not to eavesdrop – such things were rude, and gods knew her mother hated rude people – but it was hard not to, when the people in front of her were talking so casually.

"A bloody pikachu," Jackie muttered, dropping her hand.

Geneva took a step back to give her room, and nearly bumped into a trainer that had placed himself behind her. Her neck went hot. She averted her eyes to the floor again.

"An eevee, and now a pikachu? What has the world come to?"

"Ugh, I know. Kind of annoys me. I've lost twice to that damned onix, and gods know Glonk usually _decimates_ rock types."

"It was a battle for your fourth badge, though. Brock wasn't going to make it easy. Maybe if it was your first? … Well, but it still doesn't make sense. Does it?"

The trainer behind Geneva piped in, then, startling her: "Are you talking about the Petalburg battle from yesterday?"

Jackie frowned at him, clearly annoyed by the intrusion. But her friend nodded eagerly, taking a step away from her place on the line, and Geneva suddenly found herself in the middle of a triangle of people. Her heart drummed inside her chest as she grew nervous.

Maybe she should leave and come back later. Maybe there weren't any free rooms, if the number of people in the room were any indication. Maybe she should try another pokécenter. But leaving now was weird, wasn't it? People would stare – people would ask her if she was leaving the queue, or maybe they'd—

"Yeah, we are. Why?" The young woman cocked her head. "Have you heard anything about it? The TV hasn't been any help at all, and the radio's kept quiet ever since they broke out the news."

"You're in luck, my friends," the young man smiled. "I've just arrived from Petalburg."

Jackie quickly schooled her expression into one of interest, turning to him completely. At her side, her friend grinned widely and clapped her hands.

"Well, dish it out then!"

"Was it a beedrill or a butterfree?"

"Good gods, Helena, let it go—"

"It was a butterfree, if you must know. Freshly evolved, too – the wings still had silk strands attached."

Helena huffed. "Who the hell even bothers with a butterfree, honestly."

"I'll have you know they're quite handy to keep around," the young man said with a frown. Helena had the good sense to look apologetic. "Anyway," he went on, still frowning, "it wasn't the miraculous fight the radio made it out to be."

"You were in the audience?" Jackie gasped, looking as though she'd won the lottery.

"Sure was. I was scheduled to go after the kid – and I really do mean _kid_ , couldn't be older than twelve – so I decided to watch. It never hurts to assess your opponent, and all that."

" _Twelve?_ " both girls asked. Jackie seemed absolutely livid; Helena's expression was one of disbelief.

Geneva sympathized with them both – she was fourteen already, and she couldn't imagine herself in a casual battle, much less a _gym_ battle. But, then again, she knew Pierce. If Pierce had been able to, he'd have challenged gyms fresh out of the cradle.

"Yeah. Twelve, tops. Clearly a beginner, too – no tan marks, or anything. His pants were dusty, though, so I figured he wasn't a Pewterian."

"Less pants description, and more battle telling," Jackie said, hands on hips.

The young man smiled sheepishly.

"Right, right. It wasn't anything special. It was actually pretty boring, once I got over the shock of the pikachu thing."

He winked then. Helena smiled, while Jackie rolled her eyes.

"Were the tactics anything worth mentioning?" she asked.

"Well, kind of. The pikachu and the geodude tackled one another into a knockout, which was disappointing _and_ boring. Then, the kid brought out his butterfree. And _then_ there was a long battle of rock tombs and confusions."

"What," Helena droned. "So it was more luck than sense? That's disappointing."

The young man's smile disappeared, his eyes faraway.

"No. No, there was strategy in it. Luck, too, considering how the pikachu managed to KO a geodude. But that butterfree was trained to avoid falling rocks. I don't know _how_ he did it, but his butterfree avoided Brock's signature rock tombs like it was _easy_. And all the while, the poisonous dust took its toll." He smiled again, scratching at the back of his neck. "Don't get me wrong, though – it was real boring to watch. The commentator herself stopped reporting halfway into the battle."

"But that boring battle was still worth a badge," Jackie muttered, frowning.

"There's no wrong way to win," the young man agreed. Then he backtracked: "Well, unless, of course, you cheat, or, y'know."

Helena giggled, much to his visible satisfaction, while Jackie shuffled along in the queue with a pensive expression.

"Next thing you're gonna tell me you were there for the eevee fight too," Helena teased, taking a step forward.

"Well, no. But I'd be glad to ask around if you come with," the young man retorted, one eyebrow raised.

Geneva tuned out the rest of the conversation, wondering if Pierce had heard the news. He'd always wanted to become skilled, but Geneva knew he wouldn't care for skill without fame. Challenging a rock type gym with an electric type and a bug type and _winning_ – that made one famous, even if just for a week or two. She wondered if he'd try and challenge Erika with a ground type, and then decided not even Pierce was that ambitious. … Right?

"What can I help you with?" the nurse said, straining her neck to be seen from behind the crowd. Geneva pointed at herself, feeling silly, but the nurse nodded. "Yes, you – can you come around over here—yeah, that's it. Now then, what can I help you with?"

"Are there still free rooms?"

"What? I didn't catch that, sorry," the woman said, setting a tray full of pokéballs onto a rolling carpet. It disappeared into the back wall, rising alongside more full trays.

Geneva's neck went hot.

"I, um – are there still free rooms?"

"Sure are, dear," the nurse replied with a smile. Geneva must have looked surprised, because she added: "All these folks are just passing through. Private or shared?"

"Private," Geneva replied, after a beat.

The nurse turned over a keycard and set the wireless ID reader on the counter. Geneva gawked at it in marvel before taking out her ID and swiping it across the slit.

"Fourth room on the left. You'll have to use the communal bathrooms if you want to wash up – your room's shower is clogged and we haven't had the time to get it fixed yet."

That was fine, even if Geneva would've preferred showering in the privacy of her own room.

"Oh, right," the nurse added, "and we're only serving psyduck stir-fry with potatoes tonight. There's been a mix-up with our caterer, and the vegetarian option didn't arrive in time. If you don't eat meat, there's a cafeteria in the department store who will serve you for free if you present your keycard."

Geneva nodded, putting her keycard in her pocket and quickly walking towards her room.

It looked exactly like the one in Saffron City, but this wasn't particularly surprising. Big city pokécenters were probably all the same, even if the wireless ID reader had come across as a surprise. The one in Saffron had been built into the counter – the one in Lavender didn't even exist. The nurse would write the number into the computer instead.

Geneva sighed in relief, dropping her bag on the floor and sitting on the bed. Standing between three people while they chattered over her head had been surprisingly tiring. She went to the bathroom to pee, and then washed her face and hands. The water came out a light shade of brown, and she felt her face go warm – had she really been so dirty? How embarrassing!

 _Well … better safe than sorry_ , she thought, and browsed her bag for her bath towel.

* * *

Ardens ran off across the park, though not without constantly checking if Geneva was following. It was endearing, even if he nearly ran into trash cans or fences; she bit back a smile as she walked, Anima's pokéball safe and sound in her pocket.

Upon being asked again if Pierce was in any of the pokécenters, the nurse had kindly advised Geneva to post an ad on the electrical boards around town. _It's free, and most trainers tend to check them out for odd jobs or trade requests,_ she'd said with a warm smile. _There's one right behind the gym. If your friend is the battler you say he is, then you should head there first._

And so she had. She'd waited for people to leave before posting up her ad, slowly making sense of the touchscreen keyboard and the signature system, and then had come to the conclusion she didn't know what else to do.

Ardens, however, knew exactly what to do and where to go.

Geneva hadn't released her pokémon the day before. The bustle and hustle, together with the weight of her backpack, had been too much for her. But today she only had her wallet and her pokéballs with her, and she could very well take them out on a walk.

...Well, maybe not both of them. Anima remained in her pocket, and, from the lack of twitching that ensued, she didn't seem to have a problem with it. Celadon's air was too clean for her to like it anyway, Geneva assumed.

The closest park to the gym was the greenest one she'd seen yet. It made sense – the gym was the green jewel of the city. But there weren't many trainers around. There were old people sitting in benches, couples canoodling in the trees' shade, pokémon walkers strolling alongside a handful of pokémon ... But no trainers that she could immediately identify.

"If you're looking for the gym," said a clear voice, "you're going the wrong way."

Geneva turned, eyes wide, and met the smiling face of a pokéwalker. Two clefairy and a meowth were staring up at her with suspicious eyes, while a cyndaquil hid behind his knees. Ardens, sniffing a flower pot, gave the cyndaquil a curious glance.

"Oh, um," Geneva muttered, "no, I wasn't."

"Is that right?" the brown-skinned young man asked. "Sorry, then. I saw your growlithe, so I figured—well, it doesn't matter. I'm Trevor," he added, and extended a hand.

Geneva took it shyly, her hand limp in comparison to his, but Trevor didn't seem to mind. He grinned at her, pulling one adventurous clefairy back to his side. Ardens trotted around it, tongue lolling.

"May I have your name, fair lady?"

Geneva's neck went hot, but she managed to mumble a reply. "Geneva."

"A pretty name for a pretty girl! So, what brings you to Celadon? I take it you've already got your badge, if you're not here for the gym."

"Oh, n-no, I haven't … I'm searching for a friend, I guess."

Trevor whistled. "Not a leaguer, then? That's refreshing, if I might say so. Nowadays you can't take one step without falling over a challenger. Especially in a gym-based city."

"You don't like it?" she ventured.

"Don't like it? I _love_ it!" The grin was back on his face. Ardens barked at him, tail wagging with excitement. "It brings life to a city. We always get all sorts of people coming through. Not all of them interesting, not all of them nice – but I'd take Celadon over Pallet or Lavender any day!"

Geneva looked at the floor. She supposed she agreed with him, but it still stung a bit, to hear people talking about your hometown like they didn't want to be there. In her pocket, Anima was twitching. Trevor noticed.

"Seems like your pokémon's getting antsy," he pointed out. "You should let it out a bit, no? This park allows for pokémon walking—if you, uh, if you hadn't noticed," he laughed.

"I noticed," Geneva said, but didn't reach for her pocket. Anima had behaved lately – if her absence of attacks could be called that – but Geneva had always been by herself. She didn't know if Trevor's presence would make her lash out, and she didn't want to find out.

"Oh-kay then," he drawled, frowning a little, but didn't push. "I'll leave you to it, I guess. These guys need to tire out, or I'll get an earful from their owners. It was nice meeting you, though." Then he paused as if thinking, and added: "I'm usually around here in the afternoons. Swing by, won't you?"

What could she do but to nod?

Trevor smiled again and jogged off into the sandy pathways, waving goodbye at her. Ardens ran alongside him until the path curved and got a pat on the head as a reward. He returned once Trevor was but a flash of blue and brown in the distance, tail wagging.

"Well …" she began, kneeling down to stare at Ardens, "would you like to challenge a gym?"

Ardens barked twice, then twice more, and ran full circles around Geneva. Anima, in her pocket, made the ball purr.

* * *

"You want to learn how to train your pokémon?" the nurse on duty asked, giving her an odd look. The older, kinder woman had probably ended her shift when the lunch hour ended.

Geneva shrunk under his glare, but managed a nod.

"Well, uh, let's see. I'm pretty sure we have articles for the newer trainers on the encylopedia." He rolled his chair back, turning around to stare at the small bookshelf beside the glass wall. "Rosalyn said there's some sort of index I can give you – just let me—hmm, no, that's not ..."

"If it's a bother—"

"No," the young man said, in a way that didn't appease Geneva at all, "just gimme a few minutes. There was a girl who asked me for it just last week, so I'm sure it must still be around."

Geneva stood frozen at the counter, not knowing what to do with herself. At least the pokécenter was emptier, now. There were a few snoozing trainers by the entryway, and two other trainers were chatting by the payphones—

She hadn't called Mother yet, she remembered.

A feeling of dread spread coolly across Geneva's limbs. It hadn't been too long – but Geneva had promised to call as soon as she got to Saffron. Her mother definitely wouldn't be pleased. Geneva could live with that, though, but she was scared that Mother would ask her to come back. She was the sort of person who could do that without batting an eye, especially if she thought she was right about it.

"I'm going to make a phone call, if that's okay," Geneva told the nurse.

He waved a hand at her, eyes on the shelf.

Geneva took a deep breath, steeling herself, and walked up to the phones. They were like the ones in Lavender, at least – ID or quarters, and a small screen for video calls. The two trainers who were chatting moved away in order to give her privacy, thankfully, and she swiped her ID across the slit. Her fingers were heavy as she typed in the numbers; the keys clicked with each push of the finger. But it was the slow, long beeping that brought the cold sweat across Geneva's back.

She opened the zipper of her coat, feeling hot and cold at once, and took another breath.

"It's been four days," her mother's cutting voice buzzed in.

"M-Mom!" Geneva exclaimed, bringing her head up.

"Four days," Mother repeated. Her expression was hard – the lines on each side of her eyes had seemed to deepen since the last time Geneva had seen her. "What made you call, Geneva? Do you need money?"

"No, Mother—no, that's not it at all—"

"Then what is it? I would greatly enjoy it if you could explain why my daughter did not call once since setting out in a journey."

Geneva slumped. Another person would've said, _I was worried sick about you_. If she tried, Geneva could catch the worry in her mother's voice, but didn't know whether it was true or just wishful thinking.

"I … forgot," Geneva admitted.

Mother's sigh was short. Angry, almost.

"Pierce hasn't called his mother, either. Joan has been worried sick." _But not you,_ Geneva thought. "Tell him to call her. Where are the two of you now, anyway?"

A second slipped by before Geneva realized Mother thought she was with Pierce. Another passed, and she needed to say something, anything—

"Celadon," Geneva muttered, eyes on the floor. "We're in Celadon."

It wasn't a lie. But it might as well have been, because she still wasn't telling the truth.

"You moved fast. Did you defeat Sabrina?" It was a question steeped in doubt.

"No. Pierce thought he'd have a better chance against Erika. He, um – he's found his starter. It's a houndour. Sicarius, his nickname is."

"I don't particularly care about Pierce," Mother sniped. "I care about _you_."

Somehow, Geneva found it in herself to smile. Mother's wrinkles softened.

"I … I caught a growlithe with help from a friend. I named him Ardens – and the gastly, I nicknamed Anima. And yesterday we camped out near the gates, and …"

… and by the time Geneva hung up, feeling oddly more relaxed, the index dossier had long since been placed at the counter.

* * *

 **EMBER** (GSC): An attack that may inflict a burn.

* * *

 **A/N:** this chapter's song is "disciples", by tame impala.

a warning, kinda – the canon worldbuilding i prefer is the one in the older games. RBY/GSC are incredible in their eerie, detached way of guiding the player, and their mix of our world with pokémon's (e.g. gastly's indian elephant pokédex entry) makes me feel odd, indescribable emotions.

TL;DR: _ripe and ruin_ takes information from all the games because of movesets and abilities and evolutions. but, if i had to choose just one setting, it would be pokémon yellow. make of that what you will!


	6. It Was Just a Little Mistake

I met Outerridge first. I'm sure he's told you about that, so I'll save you some time and speak about what came after.

He was a young boy then, just as I was a young girl, but he already showed a drive uncommon in people our age. I was familiar with it because I had it as well, though for different reasons than his. Not that uncommon? Well, yes, I understand that now. But, at that time, I didn't know the ways of the world. I've since known many children who would do anything in their power for a bit of fame and glory. If I'd known Outerridge today, I'd probably write him off as one more lost soul.

Harsh? I hardly think so. The minimum age for trainers has been raised for a reason, and that reason is not the frightful death rate the League has invented. There were deaths, yes, but nothing so scandalous that the minimum age had to be raised. Accidents do happen, as does crime. And they usually happen to unprepared, smug trainers who think they know the ways of the world. Children who have the money to take the trainer exam aren't usually too smug – Outerridge excluded – and they don't tend to bite off more that they can chew. I understand that a parental figure would dissuade a child far better than the pamphlets they hand out at trainer wannabes, nowadays. Is that not correct?

Have you any children? No? Well, if you had, then I'm sure you would understand … No, I haven't had the … pleasure to. Neither do I want to. But I am sure it will happen eventually. Such is the way of things when it comes to us women. In any case, this has nothing to do with the subject at hand. I apologize for wasting your time.

You wish to know more about Geneva, of course. If I know Outerridge, he was hardly helpful in that matter.

Yes, I agree. He might be doing it on purpose. But he might not.

See—Geneva, at her very core, was someone who was defined by other people. It's … difficult to explain to someone who'd been in the public when the League crisis happened. What I wish to make known, as of now, is this: firstly, it is impossible to speak of Geneva without speaking of Outerridge. Secondly, it is impossible to speak of Geneva without speaking of myself. And lastly, it is impossible to speak of Geneva without explaining all that came before she became what you know her to be.

Confusing, isn't it? Allow me a moment of amusement. At you? Yes, that is correct. I can't help but to be amused by you. Wishing— _wanting_ to know more about her, without knowing how difficult that is. Without understanding that Geneva was constantly molded by everything around her and still remained shapeless. Or perhaps simply true to herself. That is a finer, less insulting description.

At her very core, Geneva had nothing to drive her forward. But other people did – still do, in fact, though it gets harder and harder to notice these days.

And so Geneva went with the flow, as she always, always did.

Where do I fit in? I wonder. Perhaps … struggling against the currents. Or maybe drowning. It's really up to you to decide.

* * *

 **Chapter VI:  
It Was Just a Little Mistake, or I'm Just a Kid**

* * *

Despite her inexperience, Geneva – much like most children in Kanto – had spent the evenings of her childhood in front of the television. And Kantoan national television revolved around the battling system.

There were news, cartoons, documentaries, and soap operas, of course. Even if most of the population had, at one time, dabbled in pokémon training, the novelty faded once you grew up. Geneva had seen it firsthand: Pierce's father had begun as a trainer of some talent, but a marriage and a child pushed him into abandoning his travels and focusing on earning a stable income. Pierce had always thought him weak because of it, but Geneva had secretly admired him. It couldn't be easy to give up something that was so important to you, right? And he'd decided family was more important. If that wasn't strength, then Geneva didn't know what it was.

The majority of screen time, however, was devoted to keeping up with the battling circles. If a trainer with a sizeable fan club and seven badges challenged their last gym, the soap opera after the news would be postponed, and there would be a battling special instead. When the League opened its doors to the challengers without a full badge case, the tournament would be televised until its very end, running across days or even weeks. Those times, Pierce and Geneva would stay glued to the screen day after day – the only times when Pierce didn't earn pocket money or study up for his trainer's exam.

But watching specials and documentaries revolving around training pokémon still didn't prepare her for the numerous, seemingly unending list of how-to articles.

The nurse—Francis—had watched her power through the index and through three or four articles before rolling his eyes and leaning his elbow on the computer screen.

"Look, it's not that I care or anything," he began, startling her, "but if you want to learn how to train up for a gym, you're definitely doing it wrong."

Geneva stared up at him.

"Reading's never hurt anyone, but if you don't know where to begin, you're only going to get confused. Every trainer has its own methods. If there's a dude somewhere who is casual about training and only battles a few people at a time, then there's a dude who wakes up at six AM and battles everything that moves until it's too dark to go on. Or maybe there's a dude who makes lists on who and when to battle—" he huffed, then, looking aside. "Look, uh, it goes on forever. You get my drift?"

She supposed she did. She nodded.

Francis narrowed his eyes at her. "You mute or something?"

"No," Geneva said, feeling her face go hot.

"Could've sworn." He stared at the screen. "Anyway, you should see what your pokémon like before you start reading in-depth guides. Especially if you haven't battled anyone yet."

"Okay," she replied, looking away. At her feet, Ardens was sprawled out and snoring softly. "At the park?"

"What?"

"Is – is the gym park a good place to do that?"

Francis looked thoughtful.

"I … guess. Most pokéwalkers are too busy to stop and battle, but there might be some old people who still have it in them to fight." Then he frowned at her: "Just go and see. Gods."

And he stalked back to the counter, plopping down on his chair and picking up his magazine. Geneva quickly averted her eyes, logging off from the computer and waking Ardens up.

"Bring your wallet with you," Francis said, magazine firmly placed in front of his face.

Geneva nodded, and then – realizing he couldn't see her – thanked him and departed.

* * *

Ardens was clearly excited, his tail wagging all the way to the park. Geneva was less so, the nervousness biting into her stomach until she felt as if she was going to throw up.

At least the weather was fair – sunny but not too hot – and the park seemed as welcoming as it had the day before. Three old ladies were chattering by the flower pots, while the children Geneva assumed to be their grandkids were playing hopscotch in the grass.

 _Scared of old ladies and little kids?_ Pierce asked, in her head.

Scared, no. Anxious? Nervous? … Well, maybe she _was_ scared after all. It was embarrassing to admit, but she found it easier to camp out all alone than to strike up conversation with old ladies. Thankfully, luck—and a generally well-liked pokémon—was on her side. Ardens attracted the eye of a pig-tailed girl and a blond boy, and it didn't take long until Geneva found herself surrounded by children as they petted her growlithe.

"Such a dear," one of the old ladies crooned from the flower pot.

" _Very_ well-behaved, too."

"Certainly so. Does he have a name, dear?"

Geneva blinked, mouth dry. But she forced out the words anyway: "I – um, yes, he – he's called Ardens."

"Ah!" the lady in the white dress exclaimed. "A Lavenderer, are you? It's been a while since I've heard Latin."

"There she goes again," the old woman with the hat said.

"With the Latin," the other replied.

The woman in the dress smiled at them, waving a dismissive hand at them.

"Don't mind them, dear. They're bitter they never got to learn!"

"Grandma…" the pig-tailed girl moaned, looking embarrassed. Ardens was sniffing one of her brown pigtails with interest, and Geneva was a little alarmed.

"That's not for eating," she murmured, and Ardens backed away, tail lowering.

"Does he fight?" the blond kid said, hands in pockets. "Are you here for the gym? 'Cause he seems—"

"Martin," one of the old ladies cut in, widening her eyes.

"What? I was just gonna say he looks way too—"

"Martin!"

"It's okay," Geneva assuaged, smiling despite herself. "I caught him a few days ago. I still, um … I still haven't battled with him yet."

"Oh," Martin said. He knelt beside the pigtailed girl and allowed Ardens to sniff his outstretched hand. "So, what, you're looking for challengers?"

Geneva nodded.

"Can I, Gran?" Martin asked, looking up at his grandmother.

The old woman frowned at him, glancing briefly at Geneva, but then sighed and gave a wave of her hand.

"Well, fine. But I'll only let you use Persimmon."

Martin wrinkled his nose, but apparently knew when not to argue. The old woman rummaged through her bag as he got up and stared up at Geneva.

"Well, okay. I'll challenge you. A one on one, is that fine?"

Geneva supposed it was. It wasn't as if she wanted to use Anima against a little kid. It was Ardens who she wanted to train anyway, right? Anima didn't particularly care about that though, because she twitched in Geneva's pocket several times. Geneva set a hand against the red surface, but didn't release her.

"Okay! Go, Per—oh, um, thanks, Gran—go, Persimmon!" Martin cried out, and threw his grandmother's luxury ball into the air.

Ardens set into position before the light had even flashed, tail tight and eyes expectant. Geneva squinted at the bright red flash, and felt surprised. She'd judged Persimmon to be a grass type, but the leek branch and the frowning face left no doubt – a farfetch'd.

It was no time to be surprised, though. Martin pointed at her growlithe and immediately began attacking.

"Go on, Persi, sand attack!"

Geneva blinked, unprepared, and covered her face with her arm as the dirt flew across the small area. The couple that had been chatting on the bench got up quickly and threw Geneva a glare that left the back of her neck hot.

"S-Sorry," she managed, eyes on the floor.

"Hey! The battle's over here," Martin cried out, frowning at her. "You're gonna lose if you don't focus."

He was right, of course. Geneva struggled to remember what she'd written down in Ardens' page, and forced her throat to work.

"Bite," she finally decided. It was a close-range attack, and had more chance to hit than the long-ranged ember.

Ardens barked his assent, tail wagging as he closed the distance, but the farfetch'd evaded with a quick flap of its wings, and even got to strike at Ardens with his stick. Ardens winced, nose twitching, and then backtracked, paws scrubbing against his cheek.

Right, Geneva remembered – growlithe had a keen sense of smell. Leek or onion stalks probably smelled even more horrible to them.

"Um, try, um—"

"Fury attack, Persi! Go for the golden five!"

Geneva had no idea what that meant, but she soon found out. Ardens curled into a ball, covering its stomach, and remained immobile as the farfetch'd pecked him once, twice, thrice—and finally stopped after the fourth attack.

Martin clicked his tongue.

"Ember, then," Geneva said, hoping that the close proximity would help.

And help it did – Ardens growled, that bright orange flame erupting from his mouth and striking across Persimmon's bare chest. The farfetch'd screeched, hurriedly flapping its wings in order to … in order to put out the small flame that had broken out from its stick's end?

"No, Persi, just leave the stick!" Martin seemed aghast that the bird had chosen to ignore the growlithe in order to save its stick. Geneva didn't quite understand, either, but decided to attack while she could.

"Ember again," Geneva said, "and if you could bite while you—"

Ardens struck out before she could finish her sentence, flaming mouth open and glittering like the sun. Persimmon realized too late what Geneva had meant, and Ardens closed its flaming mouth around its outstretched arm.

They were far away, but the stench of burning feathers was still intense. Geneva covered her nose with her hand, horrified. In her pocket, Anima was twitching almost violently.

Martin didn't seem concerned, at least, and neither did Persimmon. It flew back in a short burst, his wing smoking, and grabbed its stick with its beak in order to turn his burnt wing away from Ardens.

"Ugh, just – umm, sand-attack again! Then—"

"Close your eyes, Ardens," Geneva said, talking over Martin. Her growlithe barked, pressing his jaw to the floor and covering his eyes with his hands.

It was a mistake – the dirt flew up through his nostrils and mouth, and Ardens began coughing violently. Persimmon took the chance to peck at Ardens' hind leg, and Geneva was surprised to notice it had been just the one. But while the other four hadn't visibly hurt Ardens, this one had struck deep enough to make the skin tear.

She felt a wave of nausea at the sight of that red color, bubbling up between fine hair. Ardens growled, and struck out with his tail, forcing the farfetch'd to put some distance between them. It staggered, however, blinking rapidly at Ardens' tail. _Tail whip,_ she realized, and felt stupid for not remembering it earlier.

Ardens looked at her over his shoulder. Geneva thought back to her handwriting, dark ink against the lined paper.

"Uhm," she stammered, drawing a blank, "ember again?"

Her growlithe barked, and ran off to the still distracted farfetch'd. Its eyes were following the tip of Arden's raised tail, and it realized too late that Ardens was moving in his direction.

The uninjured wing flared up, a reflex that proved to be Persimmon's undoing. Ardens' mouth closed around the elbow, and the startling crisping sound broke out from the middle of the park road. Geneva thought back to the pidgey breast she'd had, and had to cover her mouth again.

The red light suddenly flared, distracting her. Martin lowered his hand, frowning, and handed Persimmon's pokéball back to his grandmother.

"Martin," she warned, giving him a look, "what do you say?"

"Nice battling," the boy grumbled, hands in his pockets again. At his side, the pigtailed girl was very clearly smothering giggles.

"It's over?" Geneva asked stupidly.

Martin frowned even more, eyes narrowed in Geneva's direction. Ardens barked, tail wagging and tongue lolling, and the old ladies all laughed. In her pocket, Anima was still.

* * *

"See?" Megan said, voice filtering through the pokécenter's cam-phone. "It's easier than it looks, right? Growlithe are super helpful!"

Geneva shrugged, but was unable to suppress her smile. Megan grinned widely in reply, inching closer to the screen.

"You should buy something with that money – like, um, maybe a treat or something? I'm sure Ardens would love it. Bolty loves chewing on those squeaky things – drives me _crazy_ —"

Geneva tried to listen to Megan, she did, but her head was still swimming. Wasn't she moving too fast? A trainer, and now a winner – it didn't seem real. She wasn't worthy of it, she was sure. Wasn't she just really lucky? Did she _deserve_ to feel this happy?

In her lap, her hands closed against the coarse fabric of her dark jeans.

"Hey," Megan's voice sounded, "are you okay?"

The concern broke Geneva out of her thoughts. She raised her head and forced another smile.

"Y-Yes. I'm just … confused."

Megan frowned through the screen, eyes lowering towards Geneva's mouth.

"What? You've just won your first battle! There's nothing to feel confused about. And quit _smiling_ like that, you aren't fooling anyone."

Geneva did as she was asked, smile dissipating into a line. Megan's frown shifted from annoyed to determined, as she edged even closer to the screen.

"Look, um, just take it easy. Buy your growlithe something nice and, uh, try to battle against wild pokémon. It's usually easier, as long as you pick your battles. And you might even catch yourself something nice!"

For a split second, Geneva wanted nothing more than to return to Saffron and search for a new friend with Megan. Then it passed – Pierce's expression was sharp in her mind, sharp like his eyes. She couldn't. She had to find him, first.

"Right," Geneva said, nodding. "Thank you."

Megan edged back, still frowning.

"You're welcome, silly. Look, if – if you need anything, I'm still here. In Saffron, I mean," she amended, blushing a little. "It's not like, um, it's not like I'm a great trainer, or anything, but, well, you know …"

And despite all, Geneva smiled for real this time. Megan smiled back, and then looked over her shoulder, grimacing.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm done already—gosh," she shouted, rolling her eyes. "Shawn is saying I have to leave the cam because there are people in the queue," and then she leaned in, whispering, "and I didn't pay, so, y'know!"

Geneva nodded, also looking over her shoulder. The pokécenter wasn't as full as it had been the day she'd arrived, but more and more people were arriving as the sun set.

"Thanks for calling! Hit me up if you need anything, 'kay?" Megan asked, nodding, and then waved goodbye.

Geneva waved back, feeling a little silly, and picked up her bag once the screen went dark.

There were people heading into the cafeteria already – Geneva wasn't particularly hungry, but she figured she could eat. Turning to Francis, who was still reading a magazine, she tried to find the menu.

"No menu today, but we got pidgey with rice and some veggie pizza," Francis said, from behind his magazine.

Geneva looked at him, and then muttered her thanks. She'd always enjoyed rice, and pidgey wasn't too bad—

The stench of burnt feathers, the shrill note of the farfetch'd's cries, the crackling sound of meat on the fire. Geneva suddenly felt ill, and brought a hand to her mouth, another to the wall of the pokécenter corridor.

Francis' eyes peaked from over his magazine.

"Lemme guess," he droned, "you fought a pidgey today?"

He wasn't too far off the mark. Geneva found it easier to nod her head than to explain the details. Francis rolled his eyes at her, and opened his magazine wider, until it made a crack.

"Pfft, newbie trainers. You guys are all the same. Just get the freakin' pizza."

She didn't know whether that was a fact or an insult, but there was relief to be found in those words – at least this happened to more people. She nodded at Francis again, and swallowed in dry on her way to the cafeteria.

Ardens still ate two legs and one breast. Geneva averted her eyes until there were only chewed-up bones in the plastic bowl, and tried not to think of birds chirping.

* * *

The following day, Geneva went down to route seven, replaying Megan's advice in her head. After a few hours of browsing the encyclopedia, sleep had caught up with her, but her notebook had been filled up a little more. Ardens had been ecstatic at the prospect of trying to catch another pokémon – as soon as they'd bypassed the gate, he'd begun wagging his tail so hard that it seemed as if his whole body was shaking.

Route seven was a small stretch of grassy plains. She could see the other gate from the doors, and just that made her feel slightly more relaxed. If anything happened, there were two guards nearby to help her.

Ardens barked at her from beneath the ledge, panting expectantly, and she laughed – and then quickly went quiet, feeling surprised. It had been a long time since the last time she'd been made to laugh so suddenly. Looking down at her growlithe, Geneva's chest went warm. She smiled, going around the ledge, and browsed her bag for her notebook.

 _Route seven,_ she'd written, _usually houses normal types such as rattata and pidgey, but there have been sightings of vulpix, ekans, mankey, and …_ the list went on. In hindsight, perhaps it would've been smarter to list them off instead of writing such a long sentence. Geneva made a mental note to being writing pointers instead of texts, and then flipped the pages until she found Ardens' list of attacks.

"Well, so, um. You're level fifteen according to Megan's pokédex, so you should be almost learning flame wheel."

Ardens cocked his head at her.

"Oh, it's – the computer showed me. It's a really pretty attack, even if it looked a little unsafe," she explained, stashing her notebook in her bag again. "But I'm sure it would be good to learn if we're challenging Erika."

Ardens barked his agreement, raising his butt and wagging his tail.

The two of them neared the closest tall grass patch. Unlike the ones on route eight, this one wasn't fenced. Geneva felt the apprehension biting at her, but then remembered the guards, and only took a deep breath.

Ardens dove in with a soft woof. The very tip of his tail could be seen across the fern field, a white furry dot amongst the green.

Geneva readied a potion and a pokéball, stashing them in her right pocket; they clanged against her father's pocket knife. Then she settled a hand against Anima's moving pokéball, wrapping her fingers around the plastic. And she waited. Nervously – knees weak and palms clammy – but she waited.

And Ardens burst out of the tall grass with a bark, soft paws digging into the dirt as he spun around to growl at the pursuing vulpix.

Disappointment stung briefly, before Geneva shrugged it off. A friend was a friend, and another fire type would only help her if she did, in fact, decide to challenge Erika. Besides, any pokémon that she could curl up with was more than enough!

The vulpix bared its teeth at Ardens, its fluffy tails puffed up, and spewed out a sharp flame. Ardens shook it off, seeming more disturbed about the sudden light than the heat.

"Oh, um, right. Tackle should – tackle it, Ardens," Geneva said, feeling stupid. Perhaps using Anima would've been smarter – wouldn't two fire types battling take a long time?

Ardens didn't seem to care. With a happy bark, he lunged forward, head-butting the vulpix right in the shoulder. It made a sharp, bark-like sound and backtracked, dark eyes turning in the tall grass' direction.

Ardens gave chase, mouth opening and closing around the vulpix's closest paw. Another cry – but the vulpix pulled its leg out of Ardens' mouth by returning with a flash-fire.

Geneva saw its eyes returning to the tall grass once more – and her hand moved before she could think. The pokéball struck the vulpix in the jaw with a cracking sound that made Geneva's stomach twist. The red light enveloped the vulpix's body; the ball fell to the floor and twitched once, twice—

And the vulpix cracked it open once more, tails risen and puffy. It barked again, angry and shrill, and turned towards the tall grass.

"Bite again," Geneva exclaimed, already digging into her bag for another pokéball.

This had never happened to her before! Was it because Megan wasn't here to help her? Or did the vulpix simply wished to flee? Perhaps it would've been best if she let it go, right?

Ardens followed his order, however, oblivious to Geneva's confusion. The vulpix fell across the dirt, snout inches away from the first fern leaf, and cried out again. Ardens backtracked, pulling it across the ground with a snarl, and Geneva's knees were shaking.

The vulpix's tails smacked across Arden's face. Geneva's clammy left hand closed around a pokéball. Ardens' mouth flashed with heat, and the fur around the vulpix's knees went dark and then disappeared, baring soft, naked pink.

It hissed, tails twitching, and then twisted belly up, kicking Ardens in the mouth. Ardens let go, and the vulpix fled, and Geneva threw her pokéball.

Breath caught in her chest as the vulpix disappeared into the plastic capsule, Geneva stared. One, two, three, a glorious click – and then: an odd empty feeling inside her chest.

Ardens barked happily, circling the pokéball with a wagging tail. Geneva stared down at it, thinking back on how easy Ardens' had been to catch. Or maybe he hadn't wanted to, either – he'd been asleep, after all. Her heart beat fast inside her chest as she leaned over to catch the pokéball.

It was warm, and it twitched once when Geneva closed her hand around it. Then it remained still for the rest of the afternoon, even when Anima's pokéball tirelessly pushed against it.

After that, Geneva only half-watched Ardens' brawls. The weight of red plastic felt more like lead. The pidgey and the meowth came and went, sometimes fleeing, sometimes managing to return to the tall grass before fainting, and Geneva felt as if someone had scooped out a part of her.

Did the vulpix have babies? Did it have parents who cared? Did it despise humans? Did it have a mate it cared about? Had she just ripped out a creature out of its world without stopping to contemplate her actions?

 _God,_ Pierce's voice sounded out from within, _stop overthinking everything._

And though she tried, she was unable to.

* * *

Francis must've noticed her odd expression when she returned. The sun had long since set, and the lobby was full of trainers. Geneva ducked her head on her way to the counter, pressing her three pokéballs onto the nearest metal tray.

"Caught yourself another one, huh?" he asked, voice lower than usual.

"Mm." She nodded at him, hands in pockets. What had Megan said, before? "C-Can you tell me about it?"

"No pokédex?" Francis' green eyes looked over her jacket, then her bag. Geneva shrunk under his gaze, and he frowned and looked away, scratching at his arm. "Uh, sure, just let me hook them up into the system."

Geneva waited. The computer screen beeped with every pokéball set into the rolling tray that led to the back room.

"Vulpix, female, fifteen," Francis read, resting his chin on his hand. "The burnt hair should grow back in a few days."

"Does she – has she had babies? Or, or parents?"

Francis frowned at Geneva like she was the silliest person alive. And maybe she was, but she still wanted to know. She steeled herself, and did not look away.

"Why do you even—uh, okay, don't look at me like that. Well, it's _obvious_ she had parents, but the scan hasn't picked up any uterine or, uh—other sorts of activity, so I'm pretty sure she hasn't mated yet. Vulpix, uh, usually mate for life," he added, turning slightly pink, "so I'm pretty sure your vulpix was still … uh, single. And her parents probably bolted a while ago, considering her age."

The relief ballooned inside Geneva. She slumped against the counter, sighing shortly under her breath, and nodded at Francis: "Thank you."

He was still frowning, but he nodded, and stared at the screen.

"Also, your," he squinted, "Ar – Ard—" then he frowned, reddening, "your growlithe leveled up twice. What sort of mad grinding did you do, man?"

"What's grinding?"

If Francis had frowned more, his eyebrows would've fallen off. He wrinkled his nose, instead, seemingly suppressing the urge to roll his eyes.

"It's when you go out to level up your pokémon," he explained slowly. "I take it you were wilding, right? You don't seem like the sort who challenges a lot of people."

She assumed wilding meant battling wild pokémon. She still wanted to ask, but didn't want to risk annoying Francis even more.

"N-No, not really. I went into route seven – that's where I caught the vulpix."

"The tagging data checks out, at least." His eyes glanced at the screen. "But you should challenge more people. Wild pokémon don't know how to hold their own against trainers."

She frowned in confusion. Most of the pidgey knew when to fly away, and all of the meowth's claws had forced her to use three potions on Ardens. It certainly _seemed_ like they knew what to do …

"It's not like they don't know how to defend themselves, dummy," Francis said, resting his chin on his hand again. "But most of them aren't used to outsmarting humans. That's why battling against other trainers is the key to being a successful trainer."

"Oh," Geneva said. Her face felt hot – she'd read about that in one of the many library expeditions with Pierce, but she hadn't remembered it. "Okay."

"Anyway … as much as I enjoy tutoring you, you're gonna have to clear out," he said, staring over Geneva's shoulder. She turned, surprised, and came face-to-face with the two girls who'd been asking about Petalburg's gym.

"Sorry," she mumbled, hurriedly stepping away from the counter.

"Dinner is tauros' burger with French fries – but I'm guessing you'll have the spinach lasagna, no?" He was smirking, now, even as he took the girls' pokémon.

Geneva's face went even hotter. She managed to nod, and then scampered off to the cafeteria.

It only hit her that Ardens wasn't there with her when she didn't have to request a burger for him. She liked that – the total absence of meat – and then felt guilty. Pokémon ate other pokémon. It was the cycle of life. Geneva _herself_ had had a fish-based diet until she'd left Lavender! How stupid of her to think herself above eating pokémon. Stupid, stupid.

She fiddled with a lone spinach leaf, crumpled up and sauce-drowned, and pushed her plate away.

* * *

After dinner, Geneva had gone straight for the cam-phones, but Sarah had been the one to pick up. She smiled widely at Geneva, setting a metal tray against her hip.

"Well, if it isn't our exam-taker! How's life, girl?"

Geneva couldn't help but to smile back, despite the confusing day she'd had.

"It's okay," she replied. "Is, um, is Megan around?"

"Nah, it's way too late. Try after lunchtime! She usually swings by before classes." Sarah adjusted her tray, peering over Geneva. "Hey, is that Francis? I can't believe he hasn't been fired yet! Send him my love, won't you?"

Geneva blinked, but managed a nod.

"Great, thanks. Gotta go now, but it was nice to check up on you. Call us more often! Buh-bye," she waved with her free hand, and then hung up.

Geneva frowned, feeling confused at the speed with which Sarah … well, _existed_ , and then grabbed her bag. She'd wanted to talk to Megan – to ask her more about vulpix, to ask if she'd ever thought catching pokémon felt wrong – but it would have to wait.

She slid the keycard through the slot, entered her room, and sat on the bed. Her legs were heavy, and her knees were sore, but it was her heart who hurt the most. She was so confused! Training was satisfying, and she loved Ardens dearly. And though it seemed he loved her back …

Geneva fell back, staring at the ceiling. The white light bulbs offered nothing but pallid light.

* * *

Shower taken and breakfast eaten, Geneva once again found herself in route seven. No one had replied to the ad she'd posted, there hadn't been any recent victories in Celadon's gym – and she'd realized that searching the city for Pierce would only result in exhaustion. If he didn't want to be found, then he wouldn't. Geneva would simply have to wait.

Ardens had liked to fight, it seemed, so Geneva obliged his energetic tail wagging and returned to the small meadow where they'd been yesterday. While Ardens dove into the grass, Geneva set down her bag and stared at her vulpix's pokéball. It was still warm, while Anima's was cool. Funny, that, in an interesting way. Did water pokémon make their pokéballs damp? She would have to ask.

"Do you think I should try and talk to her, Ardens?"

Ardens barked his approbation, momentarily balancing himself on his hind legs in order to peek out of the tall grass. Geneva laughed, and stared at the red plastic again.

"I'm afraid she'll flee," Geneva confessed, even though she knew a caught pokémon couldn't truly flee.

Tagging technology had evolved greatly since the pokédex's invention, and Silph Co.'s pokéballs had followed right after. Long gone were the days of escaped pokémon – now they were returned automatically if they drifted too far. It was sad, somehow. Wasn't it?

A pidgey flew out of the tall grass with a shrill noise, and Ardens tried to jump after it. Geneva glanced over to check if everything was alright, and then returned to her thoughts.

Finally: "Okay."

And the vulpix's feet found the soft grass. Geneva stared down at her.

Her limbs were tense, like a spring ready to unfold, and her brown eyes shifted from Geneva to the pokéball she was holding. It took only that for the vulpix to sit down again, assessing Geneva once more.

"Hello," she tried, kneeling down.

The vulpix said nothing. It was probably best like this – she'd sounded as if she was being murdered, yesterday. Were all vulpix so shrill when under stress? Geneva would have to browse the encyclopedia better when she went back to the pokécenter.

A meowth's growl echoed in the clearing. Ardens barked, and ran after it; the fern bushes shook as he passed, and then went still. The beige tuft of his tail could be seen near the pine trees, at the very end of the route.

She looked at the vulpix again.

"I'm Geneva. I … I hope we can be friends."

Once again, the vulpix didn't reply. The longer hairs in her tails moved with the wind, but she did not. Whether that was good or not, Geneva could not tell.

She slowly extended a hand—and the vulpix backtracked, tails shifting to point in her direction.

"S-Sorry," she quickly muttered, taking back her hand. "I don't mean to hurt you. I … Do you – did you want to be caught?"

The vulpix's eyes once again returned to the pokéball, lying open in the grass. It sat once more, head leaning forward very slowly as if she were about to sniff the plastic. Geneva held a breath, hands curling in her lap.

"I've … already thought of a name for you, if that's okay," she whispered.

The fire type cocked her head at Geneva, tails curling and uncurling.

"I was thinking – because you're a fire type, and because your fur is so shiny—"

But Ardens' striking, faraway whine broke the moment. The vulpix withdrew once more, head turning in the ferns' direction, and Ardens' voice faded out in a wet sound.

Anima twitched so hard the fabric of the jacket's pocket strained outward, and Geneva's blood froze inside her veins.

She rose to her feet, heart drumming, and ran off into the thicket, frowning as she searched. There! Orange and beige fur, and purple scales that glittered in the sun. Geneva stepped over a rotting stump, and the ekans lifted its head at the sound of footsteps— No, that wasn't it, Geneva thought blankly, unable to think and needing something, _anything_ to ground herself with. Ekans were deaf, the encyclopedia had read. They picked up sound from the vibrations in the ground.

She blinked, eyes prickling, and tried to grasp reality again.

The ekans had lifted its head at the feel of footsteps, maw open and dripping with chunks of Ardens' belly. The white arc of a melting rib greeted her like a pale arm in the sun, and Geneva's knees went weak at the sight; she found herself heaving into the damp leaves.

In her pocket, the pokéball was twitching with every beat of Geneva's heart. She wiped her mouth and clicked it open without thinking, and then threw up again.

Anima cried out and darted out to meet the ekans while Geneva coughed out the remains of her breakfast. Her throat stung. She spat once and backtracked on her hands, sitting as far away from the scene as possible. Her palms stung with every press, dried twigs and sharp pebbles pushing past soft skin. Her back hit the rotting stump.

In the periphery of her vision, Anima was screeching, but Geneva's eyes darted out to meet Ardens, and she scrambled to his side, already taking off her bag. There were full heals in the middle pocket, and she still had potions. She could – she could gather up everything that had spilled out of him and –

Anima's chill draped across her shoulders as the gastly set herself between Geneva and the ekans. Geneva's shaking hands grasped at the plastic bottle, spraying across the moist bulge of Ardens' dark stomach. She turned him over on his back and pressed, trying to see despite the blurriness in her eyes. People always pressed against the wounds in movies, and she would try. She would _try_.

He was wet, his insides thick and warm, and there was no pulse with which she could comfort herself. There was no scent of smoked oak or sunshine – just the acrid stench of drying acid where the ekans had used it to tear open Ardens' belly. Geneva felt bile climbing up her throat again, and tried breathing through her mouth.

Anima's middle split; Geneva could see her shadow where it landed above Ardens' tail. The ekans hissed, sibilating in fear, and Geneva tried again, searching for something that could help with her clean hand. The other pressed harder, and then it slipped, and Ardens didn't even whine at the pain. Geneva bit her lip, feeling the snot dribbling down her left nostril, and injected the revive syringe into Arden's thigh.

Everything was cold. Her breath was fast, in-out-in-out, and tasted tart.

The ekans' hissing struck a nearly-inaudible pitch, and then faded out like a tired sigh. Geneva dropped the empty syringe and recalled Ardens. Once, twice, and his pokéball slipped from her hand, it was so wet – she wiped her palms on her blood-soaked pants and reached for the pokéball again.

But Anima wouldn't have any of it.

She spread around Arden's body, her divided cluster looking up at Geneva. Before that moment, she had never thought possible that a gastly could seem repentant. Her mouth was closed – a straight line that hid sharp fangs and a thick tongue.

The ekans' poisonous blood dripped down from inside the cloud and into the grass. The green blades sizzled and melted.

"It's okay," Geneva said, and leaned into the cloud. "It's okay, Anima."

Anima faded out enough so that Geneva could breathe, but refused to move any further. Through the shade of the gas, Geneva could see an outstretched paw, the beans under the toes. She had never even known how soft they were. She had never even thought to touch them. Had Ardens been ticklish there? Would he have liked to—

"It's okay," Geneva said again, throat tight, and tried to grin encouragingly.

Anima didn't budge. The cloud condensed, the purple color thickening until there was nothing to be seen, and Geneva had to lean back to breathe. She couldn't even see the outline of Ardens' prone body. Not even the soft pink color of his paw pads. Not even that white arc of chewed, melting bone.

Geneva sat back on her hands, and caught her breath.

It had been the poison, Geneva figured. Ardens had built up muscle and speed, and he wouldn't have succumbed to the bite wounds. They were shallow, after all, tiny punctures that had barely pierced through his fur. It had to have been the poison, she figured, but there was no satisfaction in knowing.

"It's – it's okay," she tried again, and then began to weep.

* * *

 **WRAP** (Stadium): Traps and squeezes the target over two to five turns. The target cannot move while under attack.

* * *

 **A/N:** this chapter's song is "teenage pregnancy", by blank banshee.

in the pokémon world, it is very common for pedestrians to strike up conversations with one another. seeing as it takes a formal request for a trainer battle to ensue, most people are used to talking to strangers if the opportunity presents itself (be it by accepting/refusing battles, asking for directions, or inquiring about pokémon locations). this doesn't mean that everyone will smile and chat back, of course.

growlithe doesn't learn tail whip, but he has a tail and it's a perfectly usable one, so i exercised my artistic liberty lol

re: the ekans' attack – bear in mind that the real villain here was geneva's lack of attention, not the hungry ekans. nature won't play nice just because a trainer was incompetent, after all! a hungry carnivore will do its best to feed itself, and it's a trainer's job to look out for their team.

as always, thanks for reading!


	7. Won't Help You Make It Better

For all Outerridge is overtly proud, stubborn, and acerbic, he is also useful. Throughout all my travels, I have yet to meet a person who fit my goals as snugly as he did. That is not to say that I have ever enjoyed being in his company, or having to communicate with him – I did not, and I do not. But I enjoyed what he brought to my life.

At that time, I hadn't found the sort of excitement one is supposed to dwell in. Pokémon trainers who are beginning their journeys live in a perpetual state of fascination with the outside world; they enjoy everything, from the smallest rock to the tallest mountain. I did not. My journey was nothing more than another test to be surpassed, and I was going to, as they say, pass with flying colors. In the end, I suppose I did, did I not?

In any case, Outerridge was a queen disguised as a pawn. Forgive me the uncreative chess metaphor, but I cannot find words who suit him as well as these do, and I would rather not compliment him more than I have to. Besides – as long as I remain the player, it doesn't irk me as much as it should.

Outerridge allowed me to act to the best of my abilities.

He did the dirty work that had been transferred onto me—no, I will not elaborate—and I was free to focus on my career. … Well, money, of course. Outerridge is like a sableye when it comes to such things. He is starved for anything expensive, and, at the time, would've done anything for what I paid him. In fact, that's exactly what happened.

He was versatile, charming, and unscrupulous. I suppose he still is – we haven't been in contact for a while, but no one ever changes, do they? … Yes, I've been told. No, I do not take that as an insult. Being a cynic has always played in my favor.

Well, almost.

It was a beneficial relationship between us, even if we disliked one another. He enjoyed getting paid, and I enjoyed focusing on my training. We spoke through pokécenter cam, despite the fact I'd offered to buy him a pokégear – overtly proud as ever – and we often met up for … business transactions. After Saffron, where we'd met, he delivered a parcel in my name, and came across a catatonic Geneva. More than usual, I suppose. … No, that wasn't until much later. This was nothing but a bump in the road, if a slightly traumatic one.

It happens to more people than the statistics say, would you believe it? After all, no one wants to admit their carelessness cost them a partner. But Geneva did, if only because she told her darling Outerridge everything.

The way I see it – and because I only met her after her growlithe had died – Geneva learned from the experience. Perhaps too much. I honestly couldn't say. The conclusions I took, I took from Outerridge's retelling of the story.

You see, Outerridge was adamant in saying she'd changed. Imperceptibly, perhaps, but Outerridge cares far more about Geneva than he cares to admit. … No, not at that time. At that time, she was nothing more than a childhood friend who refused to be left behind.

An unskilled, unexperienced trainer. That was all Geneva was to him.

To us.

* * *

 **Chapter VII:  
** **Won't Help You Make It Better, or I Can't Feel the Heat**

* * *

The girl stood motionless for a good half hour before Anima had finished her meal, muttering that it was okay, couldn't she see, it was _okay_ , Anima—

Anima had gotten bored seconds after the litany had begun. It had been _so_ long since Anima had had the pleasure to eat something apart from the poison in the air. Why stick around to listen the words of a human? She would be a fool to let the chance go to waste, even if the growlithe had tasted of lean meat and oxygen – awful and pungent. Two bites, and Anima had given up. But the ekans … ah, the ekans was strong, wet, and acidic, and nothing apart from its spine remained.

Satisfied and full, she hovered back, assessing the scene.

The growlithe's corpse would attract more predators soon enough, even though the sun was still high in the sky. Anima half-wanted to stick around, ready for a fight, but it was clear the girl had suffered some kind of wound when she hadn't been looking.

Anima turned to her, holding herself closer to her body, and stared.

She'd seen humans crying, before, back at the tower – but they never stuck around in the same spot, usually leaving immediately or being dragged off by another robed woman. Wet humans were usually quick humans, she'd thought at the time. Now, Anima wasn't so sure. The girl was wet, but she was so still! She would've looked dead, were it not the rise and fall of her chest.

Then again, the girl _was_ slow at everything. She walked slowly, she spoke slowly, and she was slow enough to keep Anima inside her pokéball instead of letting her roam. And now the growlithe was dead, and Anima wanted nothing more than to laugh. She'd always heard humans were idiots, but to see it firsthand was on a whole different level …

 _If you'd let me out of my pokéball more often, this wouldn't have happened,_ Anima said, mouth widening into a smirk.

The girl looked up, eyes dark and glowing red from the sun. It was a good look! Anima loved her own eyes, after all – it was nice to see them mirrored in a human's face from time to time.

"What?" the girl asked, so quietly Anima almost missed it.

 _You are an idiot,_ Anima replied. _You ought to learn to listen._

"I don't—I can't … I can't understand," the girl murmured, eyes drawn to the floor again. There was still water in them, somehow. Didn't humans ever run dry? Perhaps this would always happen, from now on.

In any case, it was a change from the deadpan expression in the girl's face. How nice! There was still so much to figure out.

 _I'm bored now,_ Anima insisted, circling her in fast loops. _Let's leave this place before you die too. I don't want to go back to the Cloud so soon. There is still much to see._

"I don't … I don't know what to do," the girl said.

Anima flicked a gas tentacle at her, sharp enough that the girl covered her mouth.

 _Get up_ , she hissed, her gas darkening.

The girl's eyes widened – her hand flinched in her pocket's direction. Anima hissed again and backtracked, covering the growlithe's prone body with her cloud. The girl's gaze followed, and so Anima uncovered the growlithe, along with her teeth.

 _Get up_ , she insisted. _There is nothing for us here._

The girl dropped her hand again, staring at the growlithe. Beside her, the contents of her backpack were still sprawled across the grass. Anima floated over to them and snapped a gas line at them. It dissipated, of course, but maybe the stupid girl would finally understand.

"I can't – leave him …"

 _You can,_ Anima argued, snapping more gas in the bag's direction, _and you will. He is no longer yours._

And he wasn't. The growlithe belonged to the ground, now. To the shadows in the Ceiling. To the lines of unmoving stones in the Rooms. Anima didn't know much of the world, but she knew what came after one left it. There was nothing more to be done.

They stared at one another. The girl's eyes watered some more. Finally, she scrubbed at them, and attempted to get on her feet. It was a wobbly motion – Anima laughed at her uncoordinated knees – but the girl managed.

Anima hovered over to where they'd left the vulpix's pokéball, unwilling to stick around. The stench of Light hung to her every hair, still biting red and artificial, and Anima smirked knowingly down at her.

 _Stupid little firetail. You tried to flee, didn't you?_

The vulpix's brown eyes were cold and assessing, watching Anima carefully.

 _You can answer_ , Anima wheezed, mouth wide and grinning. _I won't tell._

 _If only because you are incapable of doing so,_ the vulpix finally growled, tails twisting and coiling in distaste. Her voice was high, for a thing with teeth. Anima had listened of tales of things with more than two teeth and deep, guttural voices. The others had lied – just like Anima had assumed. One could never trust a ghost, after all.

Behind them, the girl was somehow dragging herself through the tall grass. The swishing ferns were the only sounds in the clearing – the pungent smell of melting flesh and bone would ensure no prey would approach any time soon. They were stupid, yes, but not that stupid.

The girl stared at the two pokémon, eyes dry and dark, and then stuffed her pokéballs into her pocket. Anima smiled upon seeing that shade of clouded skies and heavy rain. Smiled long and steady like the buzz of her sprawling cloud.

 _Don't be like that, firetail,_ she laughed, still staring into the grey. _You've come to us just as it gets interesting. You should be thankful._

The vulpix bared her fangs. They glistened in the sun, running along the light-brown color of her lip. Anima could almost be jealous; her own mouth was just an object to produce noise and fear. Teeth for injuring would come later, if she played her cards right. Which she would.

 _She has been broken,_ the vulpix replied curtly, that clicking voice lowering to a growl. _The barkpup's death won't let her act anymore. You will return to your shadows soon enough, and I will return to my pack._

Anima allowed her gases to fizz as she laughed. Things with fur and teeth were always so amusing! How they banded together, how they thought themselves immune if their numbers were larger than most. They all ended up in the Rooms in the end.

 _What pack, firetail? You are like me, now. Your siblings will smell the Light in your fur and they will know you are no longer theirs._ Anima descended until their eyes aligned, taking care to curl her cloud into a dark bubble. _No, firetail,_ she added, her drool sweetening as the vulpix tensed in fear, _you belong to the girl, now_.

The vulpix's teeth were still there, a threat she wouldn't act on. Anima floated over to the immobile girl without looking away. And she laughed again and again.

* * *

The first time Anima had been released, she'd recognized her surroundings. The Tower looked over all the human lairs, and she had always enjoyed mixing her cloud with the others' when the wind didn't blow. But home was not a word she cared for, despite the robed women's attempts to teach it. There was only the Tower, the Ceiling, and the Rooms of Stone.

Now there was poison in the air, not just mountain breeze and lavender pollen, and Anima thrived. How wrong had her sisters been – to live was to see and consume, not to stay and endure.

That said, this gathering was far cleaner than the other one. The glass-forest had been appetizing; the seeded-plain was not. There was poison there still, like in most human settlements, but it was overshadowed by flowers and trees and fruit-bushes, and the fresh smell of clear water.

Still, Anima behaved. The growlithe's death had shaken the girl so much she hadn't even thought to return her, and Anima would see as much as she could. It was the first time she was outside for so long, after all.

Like all her siblings, she knew time was a construct. There was no time in the shadows her mother had spoken of. But her mother hadn't known what it was like to remain in a mechanical limbo for days at a time. The shadows were part of their world – the Light was a prison. One she didn't wish to return to. At least not so soon.

 _You understand this too, don't you? Firetail._

The vulpix had been ignoring her. Her ears betrayed her, twitching with every sibilant sound that Anima produced, but her eyes remained fixed on the girl's pockets.

 _I know you do,_ Anima went on, carefully closing in on her. The people in the park watched her sprawling cloud with a mix of confusion and suspicion, taking a step away if they needed to pass by the motionless girl. _It's why you haven't tried to escape again. The girl would return you to the Light without batting an eye._

The vulpix remained silent. Anima gave up for the time being, closing her cloud into a firmer circle and setting herself on a spot beside the girl.

She had walked aimlessly – through a room with an alarmed, yelling man and into the seeded-plain of human lairs – without word or expression. Without even flinching and cowering from the people who stopped to stare at her tear-streaked face and bloody hands. And the vulpix couldn't realize how important that was! Couldn't realize what an _improvement_ this was!

Sadly, the improvement had ended once the girl had entered an oxygen-exuding forest. Anima had hissed, and had struck out at the girl with gas, aching for a dirtier atmosphere … but she had just kept walking. _That_ had been humiliating. If the girl cared not about the other humans, that would be fine. But Anima did not want to be ignored. Anima wanted to battle whichever leader the girl had been talking about. Anima wanted to _win_.

And wild things never did. She'd need a trainer to carve her place in history.

"Hey," a voice ventured from the stone pavement, "are you alright?"

Anima recognized his voice. He had made the girl warm to the touch; had been pleasant and constant where others were conflicted and apprehensive. She floated over to him, analyzing brown skin and furrowed brows, and then grinned at the pink babes crowding around his legs. They stiffened, and pressed against the boy's legs.

"… Geneva, right?" the boy went on, wide eyes on Anima's. He had apparently decided Anima wouldn't attack the pokémon he was walking, because he shifted his gaze to the girl again. "D'you remember me? We met here the other – uh, listen … Do you want me to call the police? Are you okay?"

"I'm …" the girl muttered, hands limp against her jeans.

Most of the blood had disappeared into those shades of black. Anima couldn't know what that felt like, but the smell was still there. In the fabric and in the wrinkles of the girl's fingers, under her broken fingernails.

The boy kneeled next to her slowly, hand tight around several leashes, and attempted to make eye contact with the girl.

 _Look, firetail,_ Anima said, smiling, _it might turn out for the best, yet._

The vulpix's tails swerved from side to side. She still did not look at Anima.

"What happened?" the boy asked, hiding the fear in his body too well. If Anima wasn't capable of tasting it, she would've never known.

"The inevitable," another voice – sharp, unafraid – called out.

The girl glanced up into the blue color, made vibrant by the afternoon sun.

 _Look, firetail—look at how our destiny will change just because of this human's words. Can you feel it? You are far more perceptive than your flame cousins – you are far more in tune with the shadows than you let on—_

"Can't leave you alone for two fuckin' seconds, honestly."

It was _him_. The voice who had sped up the girl's heart; the voice who had made her forget her fears; the voice she had been chasing since Anima had met her. And Anima couldn't tell what set him apart from the other humans – they all looked the same – but she knew. She knew.

"Pierce," the girl said, hands fisted and eyes wet.

The vulpix turned to stare at the girl, eyes attentive and still.

 _Ah-ha,_ Anima said, and laughed. _So there is a brain in there, somewhere._

"In the priceless flesh," the boy replied, and pulled her by the hand.

"Hey," the other one said, getting up to his feet, "listen, I don't think—"

"Yeah, you clearly, obviously don't. Piss off and let me handle this trainwreck by myself, pretty boy." He set the girl's arm around his shoulder with a smirk in the other human's direction. "Just—I dunno, keep walking those hairballs before they get cellulite, or whatever it is you do."

The brown-skinned human's eyes went wide, darting from the boy to the girl. The fear and indecision in him were pungent, so Anima took a mouthful of air and grinned.

 _This is,_ the vulpix began, nearly hissing, _this is an atrocious—_

 _It is glorious,_ Anima corrected, hovering after the two hugging humans. _You will learn._

Whether she wanted to or not. With this boy, there was only one option, and it was always the one he chose.

And Anima let him, because she too wanted to win.

* * *

The dinky hotel smelled like food. Anima took as much poison as she could, hovering near the smokers huddled at the entrance while the boy dragged the girl into the building, those blue eyes cold.

As the elevator doors opened, the boy glanced down at the vulpix, still trotting after the girl, and then stared up at Anima. What a glorious smile! A slow thing that flashed white and something threatening. The vulpix ought to learn.

Anima grinned back, never the one to back down from a challenge, and followed the group into the elevator. She decided to be polite and sucked in her cloud a little, though she kept her eyes on the boy.

"Your gastly's too fierce for you," the boy said, still glancing up at Anima. The girl's eyes, still empty and tired, latched onto the side of his face. "How did you even get here without dying?" He looked at her, eyes mockingly wide. "Huh, well, considering the state you're in—"

"It was my growlithe," the girl cut in, and averted her eyes to the glowing button the boy had pressed. "Ardens."

Her eyes went wet again.

"What, did you overfeed him?"

Anima stifled her laughter, pressing her gas tight to her core to avoid wheezing. The girl's eyebrows twitched, then frowned infinitesimally.

"There was an ekans … it …" she whispered, and gripped her arms with both hands. The boy's arm was still around her shoulders, like a leash. "It was my fault."

"I never doubted you for a second," he said, smirking. "Should've known you'd set a record."

"It's not funny," she said.

"It's not," the boy admitted, shrugging. "But shit happens. You and I know that better than anyone. This is barely even a bump in the road."

She edged away from his arm, shoulders tight. Anima couldn't help laughing, this time, and the boy's smirk faded into a grimace, his eyes hard. They reminded Anima of the ice spears that dripped from the Roof in the harshest winters.

 _You see?_ she told the boy, capturing the vulpix's attention. _She has become stronger since you left her, dark-heart._

And to think Anima actually felt proud! It must've been the Light; Anima had heard that it twisted its captives' insides, that it turned them pliable and easy to assuage. It would happen to her, too, in time – or was that just a story for formerly wild things to excuse their mollified behavior? The Tower held bodies as large as its doors – mighty horn-kings and horn-queens that had respected—even _loved_ —their trainers.

Ah, well. It didn't matter, now. You could love someone and still hate them, right?

The boy looked away from Anima and turned Geneva towards him, hands grabbing at her forearms.

"So, what," he sneered, "you're giving up already? That traumatized wannabe shtick is old, Gev, and you're not pretty enough to be a soap opera actress."

"What do you want me to act like, Pierce?" Her voice was low but it held a strength inside it. Anima grinned at the sound, poisonous tendrils undulating.

The elevator came to a halt before the boy could answer. Perhaps it was for the best – Anima could feel bitter things rising from both humans, and though she usually enjoyed the taste, she didn't want to risk losing the girl to this boy once more. The Tower was a prison she didn't want to return to.

The two humans walked into the corridor. The girl stood one step behind, still slow but thankfully picking up speed, and followed after the boy.

"Well, I've got something for you, even if you're mouthing off like that," the boy said, sliding a scratched-up keycard into a slit. The door clicked open, and his motel room came into view as he walked inside.

Nothing impressive, but this Anima had already expected. It was certainly different from the pokécenter rooms she had watched from inside the Light – a dusty, untouched book on the nightstand, surrounded by plastic packages, and the smell of so many feelings that Anima felt woozy for a second. The pokécenters were cleaner – in them resided exhaustion and wanderlust, whereas in this hotel there were more primal, filthy emotions.

 _Have your fill, why don't you,_ the vulpix mocked, growling deep inside her voice box.

 _Concern yourself with your own nourishment,_ Anima spat, unable to keep a straight expression.

The two humans were talking – the boy scoffed, and pulled the girl's clothes off of her body. Both Anima and the vulpix stared in confusion, for once partaking in the same emotion.

"—come here mucking up my motel room, gods' sakes," the boy was saying, shoving her jacket into an odd tall basket. "Like I got the dough to pay for cleaning."

The vulpix bristled, tails puffy, but the girl didn't seem to mind the harsh treatment. She remained as still as usual, not even wincing when her hair caught between the boy's hands and her turtleneck sweater. She was a thin thing, now that Anima had a good look – she would've looked easy to crush if not for the roundness contrasting in those two spots that some of the older humans had.

The boy dragged her into the bathroom, twisting the faucets to the dinky-looking shower, and Anima went along. She had always enjoyed bursting into the robed women's lavatories with her siblings, if only to laugh at their scared faces, and the interminable water had always fascinated her.

The vulpix stayed behind, narrowly avoiding being hit by the girl's stained jeans, and then the boy pushed her into the water. It ran pink, pooling at her feet, and her teeth chattered.

"C-Cold," the girl said, hands pressed against her strapped chest. Humans had so many layers to them! Was the boy going to take those two out, too, or were they attached to the skin?

"Yeah, it takes some time to warm up, but I figured you needed the wake-up call," the boy said, turning to the sink. His hands were pink too, probably from manhandling the girl. "Get that blood off of you. I'm going to swipe some shit from the buffet meals downstairs, so don't go anywhere." Then, in a smirking mutter: "Probably get another of your pokémon killed, huh? Better stay put, this time."

The girl looked away from him, those gray eyes darkening, and said nothing more as the boy exited the room, slamming the door on his way out.

 _What a miserable sight,_ the vulpix said, finally entering the room. She stared at the tiled floor with narrowed eyes, experimentally setting one paw in front of the other, and then jumped onto the closed toilet with an assessing look around.

 _I agree with you for once,_ Anima said, watching the girl stand immobile under the now steaming water. _But it is better than before_.

 _I suppose,_ the vulpix replied.

They watched the girl slowly fiddle with small packages that produced foam, the smell of fake flowers permeating the room – beneath her feet, the water finally ran clear. _If only she could wash herself from the barkpup's death so easily,_ the vulpix said, likely without realizing.

The door slammed open as the girl wrapped herself around a towel, looking even more pathetic with her hair flat and wet against the fabric. It was the first time Anima saw it like this – it was usually unruly and wavy like a ninetales' behind.

"Fuckers were patrolling the buffet, can you believe it? They won't help you find your room, but they got the time to stand around cornflakes," the boy said, walking into the room and depositing a plastic bag on the bed. Anima phased through the wall to get a better look, curious of what food he'd procured. "I still managed to get some stuff, but honestly? Fuck'em."

"Thank you," the girl said, stepping out of the bathroom.

"Yeah, yeah," the boy said, extending two slices of bread in her direction.

The girl took them awkwardly, trying to keep the towel tightened around her, and sat next to him on the bed.

"Got some garlic butter if you want," he added, uncorking a water bottle.

"What am I going to do, Pierce?" the girl asked, staring at the bread.

"Well, first of all you're gonna eat something." The boy lifted the bread to her mouth and shoved it in, while taking a swig of his water. The girl's eyes widened, then blinked, and she struggled to swallow her food. "Next you're gonna take care of those clothes, 'cause I assure you they're going to reek of acid and blood if you don't hurry."

 _Must he keep touching her like this?_ the vulpix asked, still looking angry.

 _Humans who know each other for a long time are hard to understand,_ Anima explained, surrounding the plastic bag.

"Oh, yeah, also—" and the boy produced a scuffed-up pokéball from his pocket with a triumphant smirk, "—got you something nice, as a pick-me-up."

It was the first time Anima saw the girl smile – her whole face lit up despite the darkness in her eyes, those blunt human teeth shining whitely in the dim room. Human faces were so odd – this was no longer the girl, but another one, and just because of the angle of her mouth?

"Oh, Pierce," she began, and then reality ensued, and the glow disappeared from her expression. "I … I shouldn't …"

The boy snorted, eyes rolling, and stole half of her bread slice without remorse.

"So, what? You're quitting? Going back to Lavender with your tail between your legs?" His tone was a mix of disbelief and mockery, along with muffled bread sounds. "Say hi to Josh and his sister for me, yeah? Oh, and Mrs. Florence too, you wouldn't _believe_ how I've missed _her_ bitter old face."

He had apparently hit a nerve, because the girl flinched and took a bite out of her bread.

"And what about your mom?" he went on, this time searching for visual contact. Like a hound. "All that bullshit you've had to go through to leave that town, and you're just going to waste this chance? She'll never take you seriously again. The woman even gave you a starter pokémon, Gev." His face darkened, eyes averted to the curtain-covered windows. "It's more than my mom did."

 _See?_ Anima asked, whirling around the immobile vulpix. _This was what I meant. He will not let her stop._

 _He wants something out of her,_ the vulpix replied, black eyes narrowed in the boy's direction.

 _Stupid firetail,_ Anima wheezed, attracting the attention of the two humans, _don't we all?_

The vulpix had no reply to that – or perhaps simply didn't want to say anything.

"I'm glad _someone_ here has a sense of humor," the boy commented, blue eyes resting on Anima's. "Anyway, just keep the damn thing. It's either you or I'm releasing it back into the wild."

The girl finished her bread slice, and peered at the pokéball resting on the bed.

"What is it?" she muttered, hand hovering above it like she was afraid to touch it.

"You'll just love it, I'll bet," the boy laughed. "It's a childhood favorite of yours, Gev. Your very own magikarp."

 _He mocks her with every word!_ the vulpix hissed, attracting the boy's attention. _A weakfin, he gives her! Striking her when she's down, and it is a weakfin he gives her—_

Anima grinned. The vulpix went silent, eyes wide.

 _He does. It's fascinating to see, wouldn't you say? How he keeps her going with such harsh words? I still have much to learn, I see._

"Prissy fox you've got there," the boy commented, warranting another hiss out of the vulpix. "Anyway, I'm gonna bounce. I've got to challenge Erika before the gym closes—you so owe me for today, by the way. Can't even challenge a fucking gym without you getting in my way, Gev!"

"You're leaving already," the girl whispered, picking up the magikarp's pokéball. Unlike the other time, it wasn't a question. "Right."

He rummaged through his bag quickly, and threw a t-shirt her way. Two small cardboard boxes spilled out of the mess – the vulpix frowned at them, but when she extended her neck to take a closer sniff, the boy glared her down.

"Keep your pokémon out of my shit. Damn rude creatures." With a quick movement, the mess was shoved back into the mouth of his bag, and he got to his feet. "I'll want that t-shirt back, too. Catch me at Cerulean."

"Right," the girl repeated, holding onto his shirt like it was her lifeline. "Cerulean."

"I won't wait up!" The boy winked at her, then made an offhand gesture at Anima and the vulpix, and slammed the door on his way out.

The girl watched the wood, then the stained carpets, and then her pokémon.

"What do you guys think?" she asked, voice brittle.

 _Does it matter?_ Anima laughed, her gases turning a shade lighter. _You won't even begin to understand._

And the girl didn't. But she eventually got to her feet, picked up her discarded clothes from around the room, and got dressed. The boy's blue shirt was too strong a color for her – but it was clean, and covered the worst blood stains on her jeans. Ready or not, she would have to keep walking.

 _The worst is yet to come,_ the vulpix said, following after the girl when she exited the room.

 _Perhaps,_ Anima agreed, extending herself around the girl's shoulders, _but so is the best._

To that, the vulpix had no reply.

* * *

Much to Anima's horror, once the first machine had finished its cycle, the girl had grabbed her clothes and put it in another one.

Anima couldn't tell exactly how much time had passed, but it had been far too much. And now she would have to wait again?

This machine didn't swing or clunk, nor did it foam up and smell like fake flowers. It was faster, and quieter, and thus far more boring. Was this entertaining for humans? Because it was not entertaining for Anima.

She floated over to the girl, sitting quiet on one of the benches, and tried to will her into leaving, or training, or doing _anything else_. But, for once, the girl didn't even register her. Anima managed to pull an eye-flicker out of the girl when she hissed at her, smoke tendrils flaring, but the girl had just gone back to staring at the machines.

Well, this certainly couldn't be happening. It was bad enough that the girl was catatonic again, but the fact that the vulpix seemed far too pleased with herself, licking dirt and fumes out of her hair … No, this couldn't be happening. Anima had plans, after all. She was going to be stronger than even her mother, and she was doing to prove herself to all of her Tower siblings. Maybe even the world.

 _It's useless_ , the vulpix said, stretching out one elegant paw. It had been licked clean. _She won't be doing much of anything, today._

Anima contemplated this. The vulpix was probably right, but Anima didn't want to agree with her. She kept quiet, instead, and looked at the girl again.

If the girl wasn't going to do much of anything, today, well. Tomorrow would be another day, right? There was only so much you could grieve over a growlithe. Especially one that had been so daft. Killed by an ekans, and a babe at that! The idiocy was astounding.

Resisting the urge to laugh and draw attention from the vulpix, Anima looked at the girl, and made plans. Tomorrow would be another day. If the girl went on letting Anima out of her pokéball, then maybe …

Pleased with that thought, Anima slunk over to a corner of the room, and sprawled out her cloud. The machine would eventually turn off, like the other one had, and humans needed sleep and nourishment. And Anima, well…

Anima could wait.

* * *

The young human at the pokécenter counter had looked at the girl for a long time, smelling of curiosity and alarm, but the girl had slinked by without even noticing. She took out a plate of something green, ate one third of it, and waited for the vulpix to wolf down her meat. Anima drifted from table to table, amusing herself by terrorizing the dining trainers and their pokémon. She had eaten a lot, today, and she was feeling just fine.

"Get a hold of your pokémon, or I'll do it for you," a boy said, bringing a trembling cleffable into his lap and glaring daggers at Anima.

"Anima," the girl said, without looking up from her plate.

Anima stuck her tongue out at the boy, but decided not to make a scene. She instead floated over to the girl, gathering her cloud, and there she stood for the rest of the meal. The vulpix looked amused, but didn't say anything.

On their way to the room, the human at the counter had looked at the girl again, and even gotten up from his seat with an open mouth, but the girl passed by without looking up from the floor. The door to her room slid open, then closed, and she once again discarded layers of herself. She exchanged them for the ones smelling of fake flowers—Anima supposed this was why humans waited so long for machines?—and sat on her bed with glassy eyes.

The vulpix sat on the rug on the floor, looking at her.

"You know, I—" the girl began, sounding as if someone had pulled all the air out of her. "I'd thought of a name for you. Do you want it?"

Anima held in her laughter. All the vulpix wanted was to leave, and yet here the girl was, ready to domesticate it further.

The vulpix glared at Anima's corner, tails swishing. _Like you can mock me,_ _ **Anima**_ _,_ she said, guttural.

"Is that a yes?" the girl asked, oblivious as ever.

 _It is unique,_ Anima replied, _and it sets me apart from my brethren. How could I ever dislike being set apart from a sea of failures, firetail?_

The vulpix did not reply. Her eyes were blazing coals, her hatred hot, but she did not reply.

"Then, how about Candida?" the girl went on, voice a whisper. "It's … it means bright, and fair. Or, or white. Because your evolution is … you know."

Anima did, if only from engraved tombs. The vulpix—Candida, now—stared at the girl. Unimpressed, maybe? Either way, it was all very funny, so Anima laughed.

"A-And you can sleep on the bed, if you want," she said, eyes brighter. It was a matter of time before she began watering again. "A-Ardens liked it, I think, at—at least it looked like he—"

She hiccupped, and went quiet. But she did not cry. She only stared at the floor again, hands lying limp in her flower-scented lap.

Anima turned towards the corner, feeling bored, and closed her eyes. Her species didn't sleep, not unless forced to, but they were good at waiting. And it was probably going to be a long night; the girl wasn't very skilled at sleeping either, so Anima doubted anyone would fall asleep easily tonight.

She waited, looking at a faint stain on the wall. Hovered, stared, uncurled and curled her gas. Eventually, when the smell of exhaustion took over, she turned towards the rest of the room. Candida stared back, eyes still and dark. On the bed, the girl was passed out, face half-buried in the fabric and chest rising shlowly.

 _Candida, is it? Ah, I do like my name better,_ Anima said, and opened her mouth in a grin.

 _I care not what you like,_ said Candida. _Nor do I care for a human's fancies. My name is my own, given by my mother._

 _Stupid firetail. Your name is Candida, and it is given by your master,_ Anima replied, coming down to look at her better. _You'll soon know what it feels to be called._

The unforgiving Light pulled them without effort, but so did the girl's voice. Unlike the Light, though, it was easy enough to disregard her, though Anima had been promised otherwise by her mother. Perhaps it would be a matter of time? If so, Anima had to enjoy it while it lasted.

 _What should we call her, then?_ Anima asked.

Candida stared, head cocking slightly: _Is it not obvious?_

 _How about raingaze?_ Anima asked again, ignoring Candida. _The color of her eyes looks like the sky of a storm._

 _What are you saying, darkcore? Humans don't get nicknames,_ Candida replied, looking at Anima like she was rotten carrion. _There is only a master, and the rest._

 _Candida_ (and here the vulpix hissed, much to Anima's amusement) _, you are stubborn, but you are not stupid._ Anima spun on herself, then sprawled out on the carpet, alongside Candida. _You saw the blue-eyed boy._

 _And if I did?_ the vulpix asked. _Loud and malicious. I care not for him._

 _Loud and malicious, perhaps. But he was meaningful, stupid firetail. He is not an outsider! He is not part of the rest! Shaking the girl into action again – imagine if he hadn't! We would be released or buried. Ah,_ Anima jeered, _perhaps that's what you were expecting? To be set free?_

Candida let the flash of a flame slip out through sharp white teeth.

 _Blame him if you want,_ Anima went on, moving back just in case, _but face the facts._

Candida growled – and the girl shifted, hands tight around the covers. Anima slid a tendril across her face, clearing most of the poison, and the girl was still once more. Her breath was shallow and slow, but there.

Anima returned her poison to her core, and faced the vulpix's disgusted face.

 _Don't scream, firetail, or you're no better than a babe. The human needs sleep, and we need our privacy._

Candida seemingly wanted to wake the girl up, if only to spite Anima, but forcefully relaxed her muscles and curled a single tail around her paws. Anima pretended not to see the white glint of her claws as they receded.

 _Raingaze_ , Anima whispered graciously, tendrils of smoke curling around their trainer's feet. _She is a raingaze as you are a firetail as I am a darkwalker._

 _If anything, she is a fog – not a storm,_ Candida sneered. _Do not get ahead of yourself, darkcore, if you hope to ever become a darkwalker._

Anima laughed at the biting tone, tongue lolling out: _but it rolls off the tongue so nicely, firetail!_ She sucked it in with a wet sound, grinning wide. _Besides,_ _I know more of the rain than you do. You hid in caves and hollow trees while I uncurled across my Tower's roofs. Believe me, you lap-pet. Fog is nothing more than rain spread thin. And they both can be storms, can they not?_

Candida seemed to contemplate this, if the twitching of her left ear was of any indication.

 _We will see,_ she said dismissively, turning her face away as she laid down to sleep on the rug.

And so it was decided.

* * *

 **Pokémon Trainer** (Encyclopedic Glossary): A person who catches, trains, cares for, and battles with pokémon.

* * *

 **A/N:** this chapter's song is "the heat", by jungle.

i've been itching to write from pokémon perspective, and i figured a traumatized geneva would be less boring to witness from the outside. so it was time for anima – and others - to shine! i've always thought OT fics always focus on their trainers' POV too much. while that can work, i wanted to try my hand at writing from geneva's pokémon's POV too.

i argued with myself for a long time about inserting pokémon translators into the story, but i thought that they wouldn't fit this fic's "realistic-type" setting. in R&R, most pokémon are animals who are unable to verbalize what they are thinking. i think that learning what your pokémon's ear twitching means is more satisfying than having it literally say "scratch my ear, won't you?" also, the research i have to do on animal behavior is interesting lol

again, this is just my thought on it. i've read many fics who make the translators work just fine, and even bring more to the story for it. but i'll stick to the gestures and growls for now.

re: pierce popping up everywhere – well, so does your rival in the games! if game freak can pull that card, so can i ;)

the update might take a long time because i'm currently taking my master's degree, and it's deadlines' season. tbh, this update only happened because i'd already written most of it back in september/october.

reviews fuel the writing machine, though, and also remind me that life isn't just about college. so please. help me survive this.

as always, thank you for reading this experimental piece, and sorry for uploading the wrong chapter at first !


	8. Tranquil as a Forest

I take it you're a hobbyist? I mean no offense. Ah, truly? You are older than you look, then. Almost my age, in fact. May I ask what drove you to retiring, then? … I see. Yes, most of our generation's trainers did the same. … Well, yes. Not I, or Outerridge. But we are special cases. Not to brag. I'm sure you understand, considering what the matter at hand is. It would be, factually speaking, a waste of talent and determination.

But I digress. Please repeat your question.

… From my point of view, our generation was indeed unlucky. Caught at crossroads. We were blessed with freedom of choice, of course, but the system worked best if you knew how to work it. Outerridge was a master of the game, and I was not too far behind. But if you were … less than sly, then the scales would tip, and not in your favor. Yes, that is indeed what I'm saying. Law-abiding trainers were less favored in comparison to those who weren't. Not in public, of course. The cookie-cutter image is still the go-to, and I doubt it will ever change.

… You're right, of course. It is like this everywhere, trainer or not. But this _is_ about trainers.

Years later, laws had been changed. Technology was evolving faster than people could adapt to it. Selective breeding had been overhauled, bringing with it the shady business of shinies. The Indigo League suffered drastic changes, from its staff to its regulations. This is not particularly worrying in itself. But the fact was that all of this happened in less than a decade. It was a swift and unforgiving change for us. Apart from the introduction of factory pokéballs, most of us battled like our fathers. Or even grandfathers. I know how to inspect pokémon without a pokédex, and Outerridge himself went into making traditional pokéballs for a while.

In any case, that is not to say I didn't enjoy the change. As an individual, it suited me fine. And, as far as I know, Outerridge didn't have much issue with it, either. Both of us have always enjoyed being challenged.

… Of course, you're right. The masses suffered.

The sudden inflation forced many aspiring trainers to return home, while the newly-created immigration laws halved the amount of travelers and decreased wild pokémon diversity. Kanto and Johto shared the hardships, seeing as the countries also share a border, and we trudged on. But, should you ask anyone from outside the Indigo Peninsula, well, I doubt they will be happy to discuss those darker times. It is astounding how many countries depend on the Indigo League. Even more astounding is how many people are not aware of this fact.

Am I boring you? … Yes, you might call it common knowledge. Everyone knows about it, as long as they were alive to witness it, or as long as they read a book. After all, the Indigo League misinformed everyone, and quite extensively at that. They meant well, but that doesn't change—

… You needn't interrupt me, and I ask you not to do it again. I meant what I said, as I always do. Misinformation, plain and simple. The League hid behind claims of security, of child death statistics, and of declining economy. All of them quite true. And all of them effects, instead of causes—which was how the League introduced them as.

Are you familiar with this theory? Most trainer school graduates are. I learned it like so: a butterfree is the effect of a metapod's cocoon. Or, the metapod's cocoon causes a butterfree to hatch. Simple, clean, and a way to introduce slow-tier evolution. Cause and effect.

This, to say: the League's changes were an effect.

And the cause was Team Rocket's rise to power.

* * *

 **Chapter VIII:  
** **Tranquil as a Forest, or Say Goodbye to Those Who Knew Me**

* * *

Breakfast hadn't had any taste. The orange juice, usually so sweet and crisp, had barely more flavor than water. The toasts, warm and dripping with butter, had been left on her plate. And not even Francis' harsh voice had been able to convince her to finish. She had just stared at him, wordless, and left the pokécenter.

It was a bright, sunny day. The sky was the blue of Pierce's eyes when he was pleased, and she thought about him, about the magikarp he had given her, about what he'd said about Ardens.

 _Barely even a bump in the road_ , but Geneva felt like the road had come to an end.

Not everyone did, though. At her side, Candida kept quiet and watching, flinching every time a passerby came too close, while Anima floated ahead, enjoying the space that formed around her. Neither of them seemed to be particularly sad, but Geneva supposed this was a given. Anima had been stuck in her pokéball for most of the time, and Candida had only been with Ardens while he'd attacked her. As for Pierce's magikarp, she hadn't yet released him, and she doubted a magikarp would understand anything other than whether it was underwater or not.

It hurt.

 _You only had him for a couple a' days,_ Pierce's voice said, from inside her head.

That was true. But she'd loved Ardens all the same. And Pierce's indifference, along with her pokémon's, only hurt more.

Ironically, the only thing that had managed to get her out of bed in the morning was Pierce's words. Hurtful as they'd been, he'd been right. Was she going to waste this chance? Was she going back home, defeated, after barely two weeks? What would her mother say? What would her classmates think? And what of Pierce?

She looked up at the tree she was leaning against. In between the dark leaves, sunlight was filtering through.

"Candida," she said, half-blinded with the light, "about battling Erika, I … What do you think?"

Ardens would've barked, would've wagged his tail, would've ran around the tree until he was panting. He had so wanted to battle. But Candida only stared at her, black amber darkened with the shade, and gave a swish of her tails. Anima, though, gave a short, wheezy laugh, and came closer, until the air was cool around Geneva.

"Anima, too," Geneva added.

Even if Anima didn't care about Ardens at all, she did enjoy battling. Too much, maybe. Did it even matter, as long as she didn't die as well?

Anima's core spun in itself, her cloud widening. Her eyes were fixed points, glinting in the sun. She really was a natural-born battler, Geneva thought. She only ever seemed happy at the thought of fighting.

"I want to make it up to him." Geneva looked at her hands, lying open in her lap. She closed them; her fingernails were clean, now. "I think he'd like that."

There was no way of knowing that, now. Ardens wasn't going to come back. But Geneva felt a little bit lighter, inside, and maybe that was enough.

* * *

The following days were a dull rush.

Geneva woke up at dawn, forced herself to eat breakfast, avoided Francis and his take-out lunches, and then departed for route sixteen. Route seven, though already mapped out and known, made Geneva feel ill just by thinking about it. What if Ardens' corpse was still there, decaying under the summer sun? What if another ekans decided to—

She looked down at the tall grass, feeling queasy, and forced herself to focus on her pokémon. She would never again lose anyone by not paying attention. Never. This, Geneva promised.

Under the blazing sun, Anima thrived with each passing day. Though very few wild pokémon in route sixteen were a good match for her, she had become proficient at using her mean look and her hypnosis, almost never missing her target. Geneva supposed this would work out in her favor, once she went into Celadon's gym. To make sure Erika couldn't switch out her pokémon was a first step into battle strategizing, right?

Then, with each normal-type that succumbed to sleep, Geneva switched Anima out and pulled Candida in. A flow of fire and jaws biting, and the battle would be won.

Well. Not at first. Candida would ignore Geneva, and attempt to avoid her foe's attacks until Geneva was forced to switch her out, or risk having her faint. And though Geneva knew—logically—that fainting was a normal part of battling, she still couldn't think about one of her pokémon lying prone and still on the ground.

The thought of being in danger if all of her pokémon blacked out didn't even register until later, when a dramatic report came on the news. And yet, Geneva found she cared more for her pokémon than she did about herself.

A couple of days of fruitless effort in, though, something changed. Either Candida had realized that battling was going to be part of her life, or Anima had done something to spur her on.

It made Geneva apprehensive, that. Anima was always hissing, or laughing, and sometimes Candida replied with bristled fur and an arched back. But one of her many forays into the encyclopedia had told Geneva that it was normal for some pokémon not to get along (and that the gastly line was famous for not getting along with anyone, ever).

Still, Geneva didn't like that her pokémon weren't friends with each other, or with _her_. Anima was hard to get along with, that was a given, but Candida wasn't particularly sociable, either. She didn't curl up against Geneva on the bed like Ardens had, and she barely ever made any noises. Ardens had always been woofing softly, or lying on top of Geneva's feet, or—

It didn't matter anymore.

Whatever had happened, Candida had begun fighting back. Had begun heeding Geneva's advice, and started easing into the battles. And she was good at it, too. Confusing her foes with startling ease, and then wearing them down with blazing bites and drawn-out fire spins.

Once they had worked out a strategy, Geneva had barely even had to guide Candida through battle. Was that good, or just lazy?

"It's what you get for wilding," Francis explained, after she'd gathered the courage to ask. He seemed relieved for some reason, not even raising his voice at her. "It's what I told you—it might be good for bumping up your stats, but strategy-wise it's just trash."

"But Candida is stronger now," Geneva said, looking at him.

Francis looked back at her, frowning in confusion.

"Er, well, yeah, and congratulations on leveling your pokémon up, but Erika's no pushover, even if you do have a fire-type with you. Half of her strategy is long-ranged spore-showers, and lemme tell you, even a vulpix is dead meat with that vileplume of hers." He scratched at his neck, face reddening. "I, uh— I speak from experience, trust me."

"She can't use her vileplume against me," Geneva muttered, thinking back on the League's rules.

She had read and re-read them, the day after Ardens had died, the day she'd decided to take on Erika's gym. Gym leaders had eight tiers' worth of pokémon. If Geneva had no badges, then Erika would have to use her first tier of pokémon, which would be low-leveled ones. Even if Erika was a good strategist—which she would be, considering her profession—Geneva would still have a fair chance at winning.

… Right?

This time, Francis looked at her for even longer. The confusion on his face multiplied.

"Look, uh, I don't wanna bother you or anything, but – are you alright?"

It was Geneva's turn to feel confused. Heat rose to the back of her neck, and she looked away from Francis, hands closed and pressed against her thighs.

"It's just, uh," he backtracked, showing her the palms of his hands, "you haven't, I mean, I don't really know you, or anything, but you don't sound like—er, and you haven't even been eating well, uh, a-and your growlithe probably needs to rest a little, right? You haven't brought him in for a while."

The heat was bitter, now, focusing on her eyes. Geneva bit the inside of her cheek, and told herself she would not cry. She looked at the tiled floor of the pokécenter, freshly-polished.

"It's okay," she said. "Everything's fine."

And she believed it, if she tried hard enough. Francis, concern spilling out of his every pore, thankfully didn't press. Geneva wondered if nurses were used to wet-eyed denial; if so many young trainers lost their pokémon so soon.

But she decided not to ask. She just gathered her pokéballs and went into her room, heart heavy.

* * *

Geneva couldn't sleep, that night. She had slept too much, the days after Ardens had died, but now her sleep cycle was working against her as it had all her life.

She wandered off into the entrance, where Rosalyn gave her some tea and allowed her to watch TV, even though it was far too late to do so. She took it to mean Francis had told Rosalyn about Ardens, because the older woman's smile was tinged with sympathy.

Geneva bunkered down on the sofa, watched the end of an old soap opera, and switched the channel when an action movie came on. She'd never really liked action movies, though she'd watched plenty of them when Pierce was over at her house. She zoned out while watching ads, until she woke up with flashing lights and someone talking very quickly.

"—that's where you're wrong! You can get battle items, too, and even your very own pokémon!"

Geneva rubbed at her eyes, ignoring the prickling, and stared at the myriad of bright colors beaming out of the television.

"That's right, folks! We got 'em all—almost—and they're yours for the picking, if you're lucky enough! So come on down and meet us in Celadon City, at the Game Corner!"

The colors shifted back into normal hues, as a detergent ad began. Geneva stood still, staring at the screen, and made a mental note to visit the Game Corner, later. … Maybe.

Her mother had always been against such places. Lavender had never had anything of the sort, and Geneva doubted it ever would, considering the overall tone of the town. But still, just the occasional ad would make her mother's face scrunch up.

But it wouldn't hurt to see what kinds of pokémon the Corner had, would it? Even if Candida had been doing fine, it would be better if Geneva had help. Then again, if Geneva used another pokémon, maybe Erika would too …

Using Pierce's magikarp was out of the question, of course. He didn't even know how to use tackle, yet, and as such was not ready to fight anything at all, much less a gym leader's pokémon.

Geneva thought of that ekans, how small it had been, and how it hadn't even mattered. What would a well-trained pokémon do to hers, then? Would Erika allow it? It was illegal to murder a pokémon, but accidents happened, and they'd already happened to Geneva—

"What the—gods' be damned, you scared me!"

It was Francis, holding onto his metal tray like it was his lifeline. Geneva looked at him, surprised, and then ducked her head.

"What are you doing here? It's way too early!" he hissed, looking over his shoulder to the corridor. Thankfully, it seemed no one had woken up when he'd shouted.

Geneva shrugged, and averted her eyes to the TV again, if only not to look at him. There was pity in his eyes now, when he looked at her, and it only made her feel worse.

Francis must've understood; he cleared his throat and looked away.

"A-Anyway … Do you want to help out with breakfast? I've got to scramble some exeggcute, and I could use the help." He looked at her again, eyebrows pinching together. "It's fine if you don't want to."

She used to eat them fried, moist and crunchy over buttered bread, and she'd enjoyed them greatly. One egg could feed four people, so she'd always eaten them with Pierce, be it at his house or hers. The memories of those meals suddenly seemed very far away, as if from another life.

Now, Geneva felt queasy just at the thought of breaking open exeggcute. Their shells were tough, nearly unbreakable save for a point near the top, and you had to press both thumbs into it, until it gave way. Tipping the egg, it would slip out effortlessly, but it took skill to dip it out without breaking the yolk. Scrambled exeggcute was much easier to make than a fried one, but Geneva's mother hardly ever made them scrambled.

Arden's meat had been stringy, inside that ekans' mouth.

… Why was she thinking about this now? Perhaps the lack of sleep was throwing her off.

"Um, that's …" Geneva mumbled, eyes still on the TV.

Francis' shoulders crumbled, worry weighing them down. Geneva felt bitten by guilt, so she backtracked, face warm:

"I - I can help with something else, if it's okay."

It was still too early to go out into the wild. The sun had barely even risen. Besides, it had been a while since she'd done anything other than battling wild pokémon, and Francis had been nice to her.

He grinned down at her, face colored blue by the ads' light. Geneva didn't smile back, but she got up and followed after him, into the pokécenter's cafeteria.

* * *

While a passing chansey carried oranges here and there, Geneva had sliced enough bread to feed a city. Francis had given her some of the leftovers, forcing them into her backpack and telling her to eat something while she was out wilding, and then he'd gone embarrassed when she found it in herself to thank him for worrying.

Sitting in the shade of a tree, Geneva munched down the buttered bread and watched Anima heckle a passing rattata. At her side, sitting a ways from her, Candida had curled up and fallen asleep.

The rattata hissed up at Anima, tail swishing violently from side to side, and Geneva stopped chewing, squinting at the tall grass. Anima had always been relentless, but these days she was even more so, chasing after anything that moved. The fact that she couldn't get her attacks to land on normal-types didn't seem to faze her, but Geneva had thought, once or twice, how hard it would be to use Anima in battles.

Most people had at least one normal-type in their teams. The second most common type after water, and the preferred choice for a starter pokémon. They were easy to find, easy to use, and easy to care for. Even if Geneva had seen Anima easily defeat the occasional grimer with the repeated use of hypnosis and night shade … what good was that against normal-types?

The rattata jumped up, mouth open in a bite, and Geneva's heart leapt in her chest, but—

A lavender ray shot out from Anima's eyes. In the sunlight, it was barely visible, like a spinarak's web, until it melted in waves of purple, yellow, and red, and the rattata went still. Its eyes were wide; its fur bristled. It missed Anima entirely, and, oh! Went careening right into the dirt.

Geneva realized, then, and dove in for her notebook. Arden's page greeted her, and so did sadness, but Geneva powered through and turned to Anima's. She would have to write down Candida's stats, too, but for now …

 _Confuse ray_ , she read, and felt a stab of pride despite herself.

So Anima had leveled up at least twice. Geneva hadn't even noticed. Then again, how was she supposed to?

Her gastly was laughing, now, circling overhead as the rattata saw invisible enemies. Or maybe its fears? No one was quite sure what confusion did to pokémon, even if some brave people had volunteered to find out what it did to humans. Geneva didn't know why anyone would want to; the kadabra's confusion attack had been one of the most unpleasant things she'd ever felt, even if it hadn't left her confused.

The rattata tried tackling, now, and went right through Anima's cloud. It didn't seem to have hurt itself this time, but its fur was quickly turning dirt-brown.

Anima laughed, coming closer, but Geneva was already feeling anxious.

"Stand down," she said, and Candida's ears twitched.

Anima's laughter stopped as she turned, eyes wide and smile static; a tense second rolled by, but Anima slunk back as Candida pretended to sleep.

The rattata's eyes were still on Anima, though, a threat in them. Highly aggressive when their sense of pride was challenged, Geneva remembered.

"Candida," Geneva said, and her voice sounded weird even though it was the same as always. Authoritative, maybe. It wasn't a pleasant sound, in any case.

It worked, though. Candida looked back at her, inexpressive, while Anima found it in herself to laugh again. Two-three steps and there was flame in the vulpix's mouth, blazing bright like the sun in the sky.

The rattata didn't last long.

Candida ate until she was full, tearing it down in small bites, while Geneva averted her eyes and packed up her things. There was a place she meant to visit, after all, and she wasn't feeling up for battling anymore.

* * *

The Game Corner was in the downtown area, surrounded by shops and warehouses. Geneva was used to the greenery of the gym district, to its wide streets and low buildings; the downtown was a shift in color and ambiance.

There were glass doors and flashing lights like in their ad, but the building itself had seen better days. A plastic sign with fluorescent typography said that neither pokémon nor electronic devices could be used inside the premises, at the risk of being banned and fined. A man at the door, dressed in a black suit, gave her a long look that turned her stomach around, but let her through without comment.

Inside, the air was heavy with smoke, while electronic beeps and ringing noises drilled into her head. Geneva instantly realized this was a grown-up sort of place, and felt stupid just by standing at the door without knowing what to do next. It had looked easy in the ad: laughing people sitting in front of a slot while coins cascaded into its tray, and then they traded those for a sweet-looking eevee.

But there was a table with a roulette, and people gathering around tables with cards in their hands, and girls with short skirts and trays full of glasses. Old men with serious faces smoked cigarettes as they watched screens with pokémon listings, old bitter-faced women settled piles of electrode-stamped chips on a numbered mat, young men with dazzling smiles slid cards across green felt, and even a young woman with grocery bags at her feet was glaring at a slot machine with utmost focus.

Geneva breathed in through her mouth, grounding herself, and sat next to the woman, with a couple of slot machines between the two of them. She seemed like the most pleasant one out of all the Game Corner-goers.

"Come on," she said, between grit teeth, and then groaned when the numbers didn't align. A clefairy winked at her from the screen, wagging its finger. She clicked her tongue and inserted a coin, then pulled the lever.

It seemed like a waste of time. Geneva stared at the woman, wondering, until she turned and looked back.

"Can I help you?" she asked, frowning.

Geneva's face went hot.

"Let me guess. It's your first time here? Just turned eighteen, and got ready to see what the fuss is all about?"

The heat faded at the realization that she wasn't allowed to be in here. She'd assumed children were discouraged to go in, just like her mother hadn't wanted Geneva to go in the town's tavern, but apparently it was actually illegal.

Still, she nodded. If the man at the door had let her through, she could at least try to buy herself a new pokémon. And then she would never have to set foot in here again.

"Shy little thing, aren't you?" The woman laughed, throwing her head back, and flipped a coin in Geneva's direction. It fell straight into her lap, despite her attempts to catch it. "Go on then, try it. It's the easiest thing around here to play, even if it's not the most lucrative."

Geneva nodded, face still warm, and tried it. A clefairy popped into the screen, dancing, and with it came a cheerful, repetitive music.

Geneva's hand was sweaty around the lever; it nearly slipped when she pulled it. The dials spun, the clefairy danced, and a cherry, two cherries, and a pikachu.

"Figures," said the woman.

Geneva couldn't mask her disappointment, apparently, because the woman smiled.

"You still have two more goes at it. But don't expect much out of it. Gambling is not luck-based. You have to be clever."

Cleverness didn't seem to factor much in pulling a lever. Still, Geneva nodded, and played through the two remaining tries. On the very last one, twenty coins fell out with a splashing noise. On the screen, the clefairy was cheering, and there was a choice to continue on playing.

"Congratulations!" said the woman.

Geneva smiled sheepishly, and nodded.

"And now you should switch slots, because I guarantee that that one isn't going to give you anything else."

"What? Why?" Geneva asked, giving the slot machine a hurt look.

"'Cause it's not lucrative for the casino to give out money so easily, sweetheart," said the woman, smirking. "Like, I make most of my earnings by sitting in slots someone has spent a while on. The odds of winning increase if I go after someone who lost, because they use up the losing plays, and leave me with the winning ones. See? You've got to be clever."

"Oh, I thought … I thought gambling would be fun," Geneva said, staring at the sparkling coins in the tray. "That sounds like a chore."

"Wel, playing cards is fun," the woman said, shrugging. "Slot machines are just … ehh, you know? But they're still the safest way to win coins, around here. For me, at least. If you're gunning for a pokémon, slots are the way to go."

Geneva looked at the counter, in the back of the room. A wall of glass separated the cashier from the rest of the casino, and pokémon pictures were posted up beside the window.

"Thank you," Geneva said, sliding off the stool. She handed the woman a coin, flushed red when she laughed, and headed towards the counter.

Whatever euphoria she'd garnered from winning, it dissipated when she saw the prices. The cheapest pokemon, at one thousand coins, was a nidoran. A common pokémon in western Kanto, and it was a thousand coins. Suddenly, the nineteen coins Geneva had won seemed like nothing at all.

"Hello," said the cashier, smiling. "May I help you?"

Geneva swallowed, and shook her head, sliding her coins into the pockets of her jacket. They jingled as she walked away, and into the slots' corridor.

"Expensive, aren't they?" the woman asked, without looking away from the slot. "I've been saving up for a murkrow, but damn thing's pricy, even when they put them on sale."

So they had Johtoan pokémon, too … Geneva had always been fond of ledyba, but she doubted she'd have the time to defeat Erika and save up for a pokémon at the same time. Slots, even if they really were the safest option, would probably take too much time.

It was disappointing, but she'd made Ardens a promise, and she could always catch a new pokemon, even if it wasn't a rare one.

Emboldened by her decision, Geneva gave her coins to the woman, who laughed again, and left the casino without looking back. The man at the door watched her as she went, the red collar of his shirt like a warning sign.

* * *

Francis perked up when he saw her, laying down his magazine and grinning.

"I've got some news for you," he said, taking her pokéballs. He hadn't asked about Ardens since that time. "A buddy of mine is challenging Erika tomorrow. Maybe you could go and see how she does! It'd probably clear up some doubts—well, though it's not her first badge, it's her fourth, but—ah, well, anyway, y'know?"

Geneva figured she did, even if Francis hadn't made much sense at the end.

"Could you tell me what level Candida is at?" she asked, lowering her voice as two chatting trainers passed by. Seeing Francis' face twist, she added: "… Um, the vulpix."

"Oh! Right." His face was a little flushed, as he scrolled down the screen. "Let's see, you got her at … uh- _huh_ … Well, even if it's just wilding, you're kind of risking it. A couple more levels, and your pokémon will probably start disobeying you. Your vulpix is still at seventeen, but your gastly is already at nineteen."

Disobeying her? Even more than they already did? Geneva almost slumped against the counter, defeated. She'd known about this since Pierce first said he was going to get all the badges, but to see it happening was … She bit the inside of her cheek, thinking of Candida refusing to battle Erika's pokémon, and began to feel ashamed.

"It's no big deal," Francis said quickly, eyes on her. "You have a solid team, anyway. Fire and poison should work out pretty well against Erika. Or do you plan on catching another pokémon?"

She thought back to the Game Corner's couple of nidoran, and shook her head.

"No, I-I have a magikarp, but …"

Francis bit his lip, but his mirth was visible anyway.

Geneva couldn't really blame him – magikarp were useless in the hands of rookies, Pierce had said. When she read up on them on the encyclopedia, it had said basically the same: magikarp were easy to handle and catch, and incredibly cheap, but were famous for being lousy combatants. They were better off as pets, even if unpopular ones, or as a cheap meal. Still, Francis extended his tray at her, and did his best to remain professional.

"Well, let's give him a check-up just in case, right?"

"What for?" Geneva asked, even as she rummaged through her jacket's pockets. The pokéball was cool in her hand, though it felt heavier than Anima's.

Francis traded the professional expression for a suspicious one.

"It's common sense, isn't it? What if your pokémon are ill, or injured, or traumatized? You should know what you're getting into before your first battle with them."

Geneva couldn't find anything to say to that.

Francis was right, of course, and she vaguely remembered learning something like that in school, but … Pierce had never mentioned anything like this. Suddenly, she was worried for him; what if something happened, and his pokémon weren't up to par? But then, as quickly as it had appeared, that feeling vanished. Pierce would never bother with mediocrity, and he was much better than her at analyzing pokémon. Always had.

Geneva was good at studying, at memorizing. But Pierce's instinct would always win out. So if anything were to go south, then it probably would happen to her. Hadn't it happened already, with Ardens?

"Well, at first glance everything seems good," Francis was saying, eyes on the screen. "A healthy male, level eleven. Only knows splash, but that's to be expected. All-in-all, a normal magikarp, though it's got a sturdy body. Got any names in mind for him, or are you going nameless?"

"Oh, I … I haven't thought about it yet," she replied.

On the screen, an x-ray looked back at her. Magikarp were skinny things, all cartilage and fishbones. They made good bait, though; their scales were bright enough to glitter underwater and dense enough to sink deep. If it hadn't been for that, Geneva doubted she and Pierce would've ever been able to sell them, back in Lavender.

"No rush," Francis said, handing the ball back to her. "You can update his chart in any pokécenter. Just, uh, not after, if you want to change it. That's in the Records' Office back in Lavender."

This, Geneva knew. The Records' Office was a small building a ways from the pokémon orphanage, small and nondescript like every other building in Lavender apart from the plaque above its door. Geneva had never seen anyone there, but then again she'd never paid much attention to it in the first place.

She nodded, and made way for her favorite spot on the couch, only to stop dead on her tracks. Someone had gotten there first.

Considering this was a public building with a heavy traffic flow, Geneva really shouldn't have felt surprised. But she still did. And a little betrayed, too; that was the couch she always sat in!

"—yeah, but that's what I'd told her in the first place," a young man was saying, hands tented as he leaned forward. His eyes were practically flashing; they reminded her of Pierce's, even if the color was wrong. "So tell me why she thought it would be a good idea to—"

"'Cause she's her own person, Ron," the young man sitting next to him said. He didn't look half as invested in the conversation, instead staring at the TV with half-lidded eyes. "Besides, she's got to learn by herself, right?"

"Learn what? How to get her butt kicked?" Ron said, mouth tight. "It's _embarrassing_. It took Erika, like, six rounds to—"

Geneva had been on her way back to her room, but at this she stopped, and looked back at the two young men. Apart from her, they were the only ones in the pokécenter, but this was unsurprising. After Brock's double defeat, Pewter gym's challenging rates had tripled. Even the news anchor had found it funny.

She breathed in, and, closing her shaking hands, made way for the two young men.

"—to, uh … To …" Ron closed his mouth, looking up at her.

"To, uhhh," the other one mimicked, still looking at the screen. "What's the matter, meowth got your tongue?"

"E-Excuse me," Geneva said, feeling like her voice wasn't her own. The pit of her stomach was heavy, and the room felt much too warm. She focused on Ardens, and Erika, and forced herself to stay.

The other one looked up at her too, and had the decency to startle under her gaze, looking surprised at the interruption.

"Um, sorry to – sorry to bother you—"

"Don't be," the shorter young man said, bouncing back with a smile.

The back of her neck was hot. Geneva swallowed in dry, trying to get her tongue back to its usual size, and went on:

"You challenged Erika?"

"Yeah," Ron said, eyes narrowing. "Just this morning. It was my second time trying, but Erika trounced me again."

"Same here," the smiling young man said. "Except it was my first time, and I won."

"Gods, I hate you."

Geneva contemplated the two, now elbowing each other, and bit back a smile. Suddenly, she missed Pierce and his barbed comments, the way they made her smile or gasp in surprise.

"Could you tell me about it?" she asked, fiddling with a lock of hair. "I'm … Well, I've been thinking of—"

"Sure," said the smiling young man. "Care to sit? It'll probably take a while."

"Put your tongue back in your mouth, Chester," Ron hissed, loud enough that she heard, but made way for her to pass.

His legs were long like the rest of him, and just as wide. His jacket was white, caught at the middle with a black belt. A martial arts expert, maybe? Saffron wasn't too far, and they had a fighting dojo there.

Geneva sat in the other couch, damp hands flat against her thighs, and stared at them. They didn't look much older than her, but she was sure they were more experienced, and that was the only thing that really mattered, wasn't it? Maybe they really could help her with Erika.

"What badge is it, for you?" Ron asked, looking over her hip first, her pockets later.

"What badge? Oh, um, my first, actually …"

"And you're choosing Erika? Brave girl," Chester said, and whistled between his teeth. He was skilled at it, modulating the pitch as easy as breathing. "Let me guess, a fellow bird-keeper?"

"Seems like a hex-maniac to me," Ron said, cocking his head.

It likely wasn't meant to be an insult, but Geneva still felt the sting of humiliation. Dead girl, and now this? Did she really look so glum and dark all the time? Everyone in Lavender wore dark colors, though, and she couldn't help it that her eyes were flat and dull—

"Dude," Chester said, and gave his friend a look.

"W-Wait, wait," Ron backtracked, eyes wide, "it's just 'cause you're dressed in black, I didn't mean anything by it!"

Her face cooled. She looked at him, and shrugged, letting go of her hair.

"I'm from Lavender," she explained, in a murmur. "And I – I haven't picked a trainer type, yet."

And with every passing day, it was looking more and more unlikely that she would. Different types, and different personalities. Her team was … well. Well.

"She's from _Lavender_ ," Chester said, still glaring at Ron like it had been his fault that she could've passed for a hex-maniac. Then he smiled, turning his freckled face to her. "Got any weed-killers in your team?"

Ron crossed his arms, eyes rolling.

"Rub it in, why don't you—"

"Hey, come on, it's not my fault you don't have a single flying-type—"

"I'm a black-belt, idiot! I'm not _meant_ to have a flying-type—"

She looked at the counter while the two boys argued. She'd thought about that, too. It was true that Candida would be good against grass-types, and Anima was immune to any poison, but … But Erika was a master strategist, even when compared to most of the Indigo gym leaders.

She was starting to think maybe this wasn't such a good idea, but Chester distracted her.

"Anyway," he said, barreling through Ron's tirade and smiling at her again, "if it's your first badge, Erika will probably go easy on you. It kind of depends on how she's feeling, honestly. Like, since I was a zero-badge bird-keeper with two pokémon, she used three pokémon against me. Type advantage can kind of bite back, sometimes, but it's still worth it."

"Yeah," Ron said, still looking upset. "I don't have any type advantage, but I'm a two-badge with four pokémon, so she used four of her third-tier pokémon."

Geneva nodded. From what she'd read, it made sense.

"So … against fire and poison …"

Chester whistled again.

"It'll probably be the same set as mine," he said. "First-tier, and one more pokémon than you to counter the advantage you get. Unless you have all six, of course. I'm not sure what the protocol on that one is."

"Uh, right. I think she switches one out with a second-tier?"

"Makes sense, but it seems unfair."

"Well, most rookies don't have a full belt, anyway. And this _is_ a gym challenge, it's not meant to be easy—"

"Yeah, unless you're a bird-keeper, which makes you completely O. P.—"

"Chester, I swear to the gods—"

They began arguing again. Geneva thought about Anima, and Candida, and didn't even notice how easy it had been, to talk to people she'd never met before.

* * *

In the morning, she had the first full breakfast since Ardens had died. She had to force herself to eat the third toast Francis had smuggled onto her plate, but she managed to down it with a glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice.

If it was for Ardens, then it was easier to eat. He'd always been energetic and ready to go, and if Geneva was planning on battling Erika, then she'd need to be both those things too.

"Anima," she warned, noticing her gastly was approaching the same cleffable as before. Its trainer glared at her again, picking up the shaking thing, and turned away with a string of rude words.

Anima wheezed on her way back, cloud thinning. Candida, eating fish-scented kibble, gave her a derisive look.

"Save it for Erika, okay?" Geneva asked. "Also, that's really not … that's not alright, okay?"

Anima clearly didn't know (or care) what was alright or not. She spun around and laughed some more, attracting Candida's gaze. Her tails were swishing from one side to the other, as they did when she was annoyed, but Geneva let her be. Candida preferred to be left alone, anyway, and Geneva still hadn't figured out how to ease her out of her moods.

"Hey, it's that girl from—hey!"

Geneva startled, shoulders tightening, but it only lasted a second. Chester slid into the bench in front of her, smiling widely, and her surprise faded. "Aren't you an early riser! And here I prided myself on always waking up early."

Candida was licking her snout, but she paused to sniff at Chester's shoes.

" _All_ pokémon trainers wake up early. Or at least they should," Ron argued, nodding at her before sitting. His plate was a precarious, tall pile of scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and sausage. He looked at her, and managed an awkward smile. "So, uh … good luck today."

"Yeah, hope you fare off better than Ron here." Chester's smile was a cheeky thing.

"That's getting real old, real fast."

Geneva couldn't help it, she smiled too. Anima laughed, stealing the attention, glinting eyes set on the large boy. The black-belt trainer flinched under its gaze, and protected his plate with an arm.

"It's, um, it's fine, she doesn't really eat solids," Geneva said. The picture of a dissolving ekans amidst purple mist flashed briefly into her mind, and she forced it away, feeling sick. "Not usually," she tacked on.

"Ooh, a gastly!" Chester exclaimed, looking up with a grin. "I've only ever seen, like, two! Are you taking it with you today? What am I saying, of course you would."

"Poison and fire, right?" Ron asked, in-between bites. "Gastly should have no issue with grass or poison. It's … pretty clever."

Geneva nodded, but knew better than to feel pleased. It wasn't a question of being clever, not really. More like a question of limited time and skill. After all, Pierce wouldn't wait around forever, and Cerulean wasn't as close as Saffron. Geneva would leave after lunch, badge or no badge.

"It's starting to look like an interesting match," Chester said, resting his chin on his hand and smiling at her. "Maybe we should go cheer you on! What do you say, Ron?"

"I don't know …" Ron ate a large fork-full of eggs, and chewed thoughtfully. "Mya made us promise we wouldn't go until she won, and, like I said before, it's embarrassing to see your own sister lose." Then he swallowed, and frowned: "Especially after I _told_ her that Erika wasn't—"

"Okay, man, don't – don't start with that again, okay?"

Ron ate his eggs with a frown. Chester took a sip of his orange juice, and then dug into his toast with a grin. Like Geneva, he hadn't gone for the exeggcute eggs or the diglett sausages.

"Well, we don't have to tell Mya," Chester went on, swirling his juice around. "Say, are you going to have anyone cheering for you, besides us? Like, maybe a boyf—"

" _Chester_ ," Ron cut in, the tips of his ears reddening.

Anima spread her cloud as she laughed, casting a light shadow over Ron. Geneva looked at her, just checking, and then back at the two young men.

"Yes, Ronald, my good friend?" Chester said, simpering.

Geneva felt awkward, though she didn't really know why. She cleared her throat, calling Anima back to her side, and picked up her plate. Candida followed, but only after Geneva grabbed the empty metal bowl off the floor.

"Thank you for the advice," she managed, without managing to look either of them in the eyes. "I – I'll do my best today."

Ron and Chester stopped elbowing each other, looking up at her. Chester's ears were reddening now, too, but he still managed a bright smile.

"R-Right—" Ron began, averting his gaze.

"Good luck, eh? Try and spot us in the bleachers!"

Geneva nodded, feeling queasy at the thought of fighting in front of a crowd, and went to stash her cutlery away. Ron and Chester argued until she closed the door to the cafeteria behind her, but they were both grinning.

"Well," she said, and couldn't help but to smile as well, "let's go, then."

* * *

 **Confuse Ray** (FRLG): The foe is exposed to a sinister ray that triggers confusion.

* * *

 **A/N:** this chapter's song is "i'll make a man out of you", from the mulan ost.

the world goes on spinning, despite everything that's happened. geneva makes some life decisions, polishes her battle skills (?), and meets some new people! also, i get into food a little, because i really like to headcanon and because geneva can't stomach the sight of it (pun intended).

re: gym battles –

in a world revolving around gyms and badges, there is _no way_ gym leaders would only have a single set of pokémon. that's too lazy and boring for a title which, canonically, people idolize! it is also way too easy to beat, depending on what level the player is on, and how many pokémon they have. it makes sense in the game, because the player is supposed to be those levels, and the rematch system in hgss (the dojo) or platinum (café in the survival area) did make it more fun, but still.

in r&r's universe, gym leaders must have eight tiers of battle-ready pokémon, which are then traded around depending on the kind of challenger they get. it's more believable, and more balanced, even if it makes it harder on the challenger. but hey, gym battles are meant to be hard, and the gym leader title _is_ for impressive trainers.

anyway, i like to think i explained it pretty well in the story, and then again in these notes, but hit me up with a review if it wasn't clear enough.

re: trainer names –

i get most of my trainers' names out of game-canon, with some exceptions (the nurses, for example, or any random npcs). chester, ron and mya are from flrg, route 15, if anyone cares to know. also, yes, trainer classes are absolutely still a thing because i love them so very much :^)

next up, the Big Bad Gym Battle! as always, thanks for reading!


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